


You were a kindness (when I was a stranger)

by ohmyvalar



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Shining - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Minor Character Death, Supernatural Elements, The Shining AU, Which are not Jim or Bones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyvalar/pseuds/ohmyvalar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk has powers that his family has never accepted. After his brother Sam dies in a tragic accident, Jim runs away from home. He meets a certain country doctor who has the same powers. The Shining AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You were a kindness (when I was a stranger)

**Author's Note:**

> In-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> Happy new year, everyone!

Jim had always, or at least from the point of time when he could remember, known that there was something different with him. At first, it had only been pointing at a particularly disturbing apparition, and whining when his mother firmly told him to stop throwing a tantrum. His mother had not believed him about the things he told her that he could see. 

He had had the unfortunate luck of being born in a family of firm unbelievers; his father was a scientific researcher who absolutely disapproved of superstition, and his mother was his lab assistant. Both had frowned upon Jim's supposed ability to see something they could not, even when Jim had been a mere toddler. 

So, as a child, Jim had learnt quickly to keep his mouth shut about the often disturbing forms of once-alive creatures that he could see. With time, his ability to see ghosts faded, but his ability grew to a higher degree, and unwittingly, Jim could sometimes read others' thoughts or even see their pasts. 

This uncanny ability he kept a secret from his parents, but nonetheless Winona would shoot him the occasional odd look when Jim correctly guessed a certain thing again. However, his parents never brought the issue up -not with him present, at least, and for a time all was peaceful with the Kirks. 

Then Jim had his first experience with telekinesis. 

On the summer of Jim's eleventh year, the Kirks were gathered around the dining table in the living room discussing about a move to Georgia when Jim had gotten upset. 

Jim had argued that he didn't want to leave his friends in his school, and that they had been living here since he was born, so why the sudden move? Winona had impatiently reiterated that both she and his father's job required the move, and that it wasn't sudden. They all knew that there had been plans, as George had told them months ago. 

That had made Jim frustrated, but it had been Sam's refusal to side with him in the argument that had been the final straw. Under the pressure of all three other Kirks' exasperated words, the ceiling lights had started to flicker ominously. 

At first the Kirks put it down to electricity failure, but when the lights returned to normal after Jim stormed out of the room, the Kirks remembered Jim's outbursts when he was younger. George, not one for stalling or denial, much preferring a clear-cut answer, whether it was a positive or negative one, had immediately brought up a ladder to investigate. 

It had turned out that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the circuitry in the ceiling lights, and for days there was an ominous silence in the Kirk household whenever the subject was even vaguely mentioned. In the end, they didn't move to Georgia. 

Having gotten the idea that his parents were actually wary of his newly discovered powers, they scared Jim even more. Especially since after the incident, he had no clue how to control his newest ability. Jim spent many nights curled up in his bed, wanting desperately to talk to someone who would believe him, and not daring to ask Sam in the other bed, who was just as terrified of Jim's ability as he was. 

That was when Jim had his first touch with someone with similar abilities to his own. One night, as he lay in his bed listening to Sam's even breathing, unable to sleep, he felt a hand holding his own. 

Jim had started, not daring to bolt upright in fear of waking Sam. He was sure that if he turned his head, he would see one of those apparitions from his childhood - those -those ghosts, right beside him, touching his hand. But when seconds passed and the touch faded slowly in degrees, Jim couldn't resist the urge to turn. He had always had a daring streak in him, and he would rather be scared half to death than be tormented for the next few days wondering about who had touched his hand. None of the things he had seen, however hideous, had ever hurt him, anyway. Besides, Jim didn't believe in no-win scenarios. Perhaps he could even learn something from this encounter. 

Slowly, so slowly that the tension and dread in his blood began to burn, Jim turned to his side. There, surprisingly, there was nothing, even thought he could feel a certain presence.

And not the 'nothing' Jim's parents and even Sam always claimed to be where Jim saw the apparitions; there was truly only empty space near where Jim's hand lay on the sheets. 

But the contact had felt so real. "Where are you?" Jim whispered, darting a quick glance over at Sam's bed to make sure that his brother was still well asleep. Instinct told him that something had been there, and he hadn't imagined the touch. 

For a full minute, there was nothing. Then, gently, as if trying not to startle Jim, the touch returned, brushing Jim's hand. 

Jim held his breath, not trusting himself not to move if he exhaled. The invisible hand -it felt like a real human hand did- squeezed his own, as if to tell him to relax. 

It wasn't a ghost, then, Jim decided. "What are you?" He whispered again. There was no verbal reply, but when Jim asked, "Are you... Like me?" the unseen hand squeezed Jim again. 

Jim took it for affirmation, and was encouraged. He asked several more questions, but the phantom touch did not return, whether it was because the other person was gone or could not reply, Jim didn't know. 

But that night, Jim went to sleep with hope in his heart. He was not alone. Someone else out there, whoever it was, shared a similar ability with him, and had reached out for him. He wasn't a freak. 

After that night, Jim had no further supernatural experiences with that mysterious other person or any others. Nevertheless, he regained his cheerful self and soon found that a happy temperament made it easier for him to harness his abilities. While his mind-reading abilities only grew stronger, his telekinesis rarely occurred and he found it easier to ignore the apparitions knowing that someone out there saw the same thing. Besides, the apparitions never hurt him. The rest of the Kirks were relieved, and George and Winona decided to forget about the whole affair with the ceiling lights. 

But Jim Kirk wasn't getting such a good deal from fate. He should have known that his abilities would only grow stronger with time, and less easy to hide. 

The year Jim turned fifteen, George Kirk died in a accidental fire in the science laboratory at work. Winona was devastated. While she had been off-shift the night her husband had died, she couldn't shake the feeling that she should have been there with him. She was referred to a psychiatrist by the company, but Winona soon dropped her job. 

She started getting home drunk, and both Sam and Jim were terrified at the stupors their mother would go into suddenly. With some help from Jim's ability to sense shifts in emotions, they always managed to avoid the worst of Winona's actions, but this only increased her ire when she caught Jim staring at places where there was nothing. 

"Stop pretending that you can see those things! They don't exist! You're too old for such nonsense, Jim!" Winona would shout, and Jim would flinch and back away to his room. Sam, who believed that Jim had some form of supernatural ability but had never been able to accept them, would lock the room while their mother screamed herself hoarse outside.

These stupors, which became increasingly common at an alarming rate in the month after George's death, would often end with Sam and Jim hearing their mother burst into broken sobs. And they would cautiously come out of their room and hold Winona while she cried. When she came to her senses the next morning, Winona would always apologize and berate herself, but the cycle would just repeat itself the next day. 

While an older Sam managed to concentrate on his studies, Jim's grades started to slide drastically. Since he was still too young to have access to alcohol on a daily basis, the younger Kirk turned to other methods of distraction. 

At fifteen, Jim was starting to grow into the example of a Kirk male, his shoulders filling out and his limbs slowly growing out of the awkwardness of adolescence. His blue eyes were more prominent than ever, eye-catching to the point of brilliance, under a mob of golden hair that looked good either messy or immaculate. 

Or so the girls in Jim's class had started whispering, giggling in the hallways whenever he passed by, and soon Jim had taken advantage of his apparent charm to award a dazzling smile or mischievous wink to his admirers. 

Kissing, Jim soon found out, was something that he liked very much. Sam, who already had a girlfriend, sputtered when Jim casually pointed this out one day at breakfast. "Nice to see my kid brother's growing up," He finally said, refusing to give any further comment. But Jim didn't need any psychic powers to see the curl of a fond smile twisting his lips. 

Then one night when Winona stumbled home, she wasn't alone. The boys heard their mother groaning out curses as she fumbled with the keys, but this time, a male baritone accompanied her frustrated voice. 

When the door finally swung open, Sam and Jim saw their mother kicking off her heels, stumbling into the house with an arm thrown over a stranger. Sam looked at Jim, confused. Winowa had never brought anyone home before, no matter how drunk she was. 

But Jim wasn't looking at his brother. The man Winona had with her had stepped forward into the house, smooth without hesitation like it was natural, and planted Winona's keys on the coffee table. "Well, boys, why are you just standing there? Come help your mother." He said casually, walking over to let Winona down on the sofa. 

The man had black hair and brown eyes, and the first thing that struck Jim when he saw him was how different he looked from George Kirk. Where his father had been tall and handsome in a pretty-boy sense, the man was of average height and had ruggedly handsome features. Of course, the most distinguishing feature between the two men was the very different auras they projected. 

With the help of his psychic abilities, the aura people projected was how Jim usually made his first impressions, having from a young age learnt that sometimes, people looked and thought very differently on the inside. 

While George had had a naturally commanding presence, his aura had also been filled with a warm, tinted glow that suggested a heart of gold. The man's aura, on the other hand, was reclusive and gray. Jim frowned. It was a color he often saw on the people in the slightly dubious alleyways in town. Jim decided that he definitely did not like the guy. 

"This is Frank. And that's Uncle Frank to you," Winona said, her voice slurring from the drinks she had had, but her eyes were still sharp when she whirled around to fix them on Jim, as if she knew what he had been doing. Jim flinched, and looked down, avoiding his mother's gaze as he walked over to shut and lock the front door, giving Frank a not-so-subtle shove as he passed. 

He could still feel Frank's dark gaze on him as he and Sam went back into their room. Their mother seemed in a remarkably calm mood anyway, and if she trusted Frank enough for him to stay, there was nothing they could do while she was awake. Later, however... 

Once the voices in the living room died down, and the brothers were sure that their mother was asleep in the adjacent bedroom that Frank had carried her into, Sam and Jim slowly opened the door. 

To Jim's relief, Frank was sitting on the sofa, a drink in his hand. Good. If he had been in the bedroom, there was no way they could have talked to him without waking Winona. 

Sam took the initiative. "Look, Frank. Uncle Frank, whatever. It's getting late, shouldn't you be going home?" There was just a slight undertone to his voice that suggested a threat. 

Frank looked up at the elder Kirk, his lips curled up in a not-so-friendly smile. "Samuel Kirk, is it? Well, well. I've heard a lot about you from Winona," He said, and there was a note of disdain in his voice that made Jim clench his fists. 

Frank's eyes lingered on Sam long enough to unnerve him, before sweeping along to scan Jim. "And James." Frank said. "Some sort of psychic, are you? And such a bad boy too, to be disobeying your mother. Winona hates the supernatural." 

Jim felt an inexplicable bout of rage flare in his stomach. Why had Winona told him something she herself didn't understand or even accept? She had no right! Sam noticed Jim's anger, and touched a worried hand to his arm. 

"You should leave, Frank," Jim said, and there was a definite layer of threat in his tone. 

Frank was about to smirk in retort, but he saw Jim's expression and Sam's worried look. A look of disgust crossed Frank's face. "You really are one of them, aren't you?" Frank mused, laughing in distaste. 

Jim tensed. What was he talking about? His supernatural abilities? Sure enough, Frank continued, "You're one of those freaks who can levitate stuff and take over minds." 

Jim flinched as if physically struck. What did Frank mean? Did he know someone who could... The thought that Frank could be insulting his supernatural friend from years ago sparked an unexpectedly strong anger in Jim. 

"You shut up about things you don't even understand," Jim breathed, spitting out the words he always felt like throwing at Winowa when she insulted him and his imaginary powers. He couldn't say that to his mother, but this stranger, this Frank had absolutely no right to insult Jim. 

"Or what? You'll throw me out?" Frank taunted, setting his drink back down on the coffee table. Without warning, the glass holding the liquid suddenly started to crack. As if under some extreme pressure, lines appeared in the smooth surface, and Sam stood frozen as the glass slowly began to break. 

Finally, with a last cracking sound, the entire glass burst into small pieces, spilling the liquid all over the coffee table. Jim sat down on the sofa, shock slowly seeping into his thoughts. What had just happened? He'd just been so angry, and then... He glanced over at the coffee table again. The glass was definitely broken, sharp pieces strewn all over the table. 

As he stared hard at the wreckage he had caused, his vision began to double. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and his head was beginning to pound. He glanced at the door in time to see a figure that had to be Frank leave the house. Then he slipped into a dark lake of unconsciousness. 

......

When he woke, it was already morning. The strong beams of sunlight that filtered through the windows made Jim groan and turn his head away. Reaching for his bedside alarm clock, he found that it was already ten in the morning, and he was overdue for school by hours. 

Not that he really cared. If there had been a time when he had bothered to listen in class, it was far behind him now. 

Besides, his mother would already have been at work. Winona had never went back to her job at the science laboratory, but she had taken up odd jobs in town. Sam had taken to doing jobs too, whenever he could spare the time. Jim had wanted to help too, but both Winowa and Sam had outvoted him on that, wanting him to concentrate on his academics. The irony was that Sam was the only Kirk brother that was putting any effort into studies now. Jim still passed his exams, but he never put any focus on his lessons. 

Sam. Why hadn't Sam woke him up? His brother's bed was empty. Jim bolted upright in his bed, then groaned as his head started to pound again. Shit. What had happened last night? He vaguely remembered passing out, but what- 

It came back to him as he slowly got up, wincing as his head throbbed. At least the double vision was gone. He stumbled towards the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up. 

When he exited the bathroom minutes later, Jim nearly walked right into Sam. "Whoa!" Sam said, catching his younger brother by the shoulders when Jim felt a sudden bout of dizziness. 

"Shit." Jim cursed, reluctantly allowing the elder Kirk to help him back to his bed. "What happened? Why aren't you at school, Sam?" 

Sam gave a sigh that was meant to be exasperated, but Jim could sense his worry. "Mom threw a fit this morning when she woke up and found Frank gone. I, well, lied, but I think she knew anyway." Sam explained. "Then she saw you still unconscious, but I just told her that you were sick." He admitted. "Sorry." 

Jim shook his head. "It's okay," He said, "She would probably have freaked out." Then he stared at his hands. "I really did that, huh," He huffed. He remembered Frank's words. "You're one of those freaks", the man had said. 

Sam seemed to read what Jim was thinking. Sometimes Jim thought that Sam had some of his abilities, too, but he never mentioned it because he knew that his brother would freak out. 

"You're not, Jim." Sam insisted. "Frank is a bastard, and hopefully we'll never see him again." His words were genuine, but he refused to meet Jim's eyes. 

Maybe, Jim thought, but he nodded and gave Sam a smile that he hoped didn't look as fake as he felt inside. 

They never brought up the incident again. 

.....

But it turned out that Frank wasn't leaving their lives just yet, because two days later, he was in the Kirk household again. This time Winona firmly made the boys acknowledge Frank as 'Uncle Frank' before she passed out. She was even more drunk than the day before. 

Frank had given the boys, especially Jim, a triumphant grin that made Jim want to throw up. 

So Frank stayed, though never throughout the night. 

For a while, things actually went fine, and the boys only saw Frank for at most an hour each night and he never raised a hand against them. 

Then when Jim turned seventeen, something happened that changed the Kirks' lives forever. 

....

Jim, for once, had actually been happy, coming back from the summer camp his school had organized. He had had fun with his friends, and his psychic abilities had not made any prominent appearances. 

He came home to see his brother's name on the obituaries, Frank in his mother's bedroom unpacking his things, and Winona gone. 

For a moment Jim just stood there, stock still, his eyes staring at the room, and the dark, curling mist flowing from Frank's aura. The guilt, and denial, coming from the man was so strong that Jim might actually have felt sorry for him if he didn't know why. 

Jim saw the things that Frank had seen, the day Sam had died. He saw how Frank had dared Sam to take the car keys, eventually leading up to hours of anxious waiting by the phone with Winona, and finally the phone call from the police days later. 

Anger boiled up in Jim, and he'll never know what he had meant to do when he reached out for Frank - to shake him until his bones rattled or to punch him in the gut - because when he made contact with the man's skin, the images and emotions that flooded him stopped him from doing anything. 

Through Frank's eyes, Jim saw, felt, his anger at Sam's insolence and disrespect, which turned into panic when Sam didn't come home for a few days and none of Winona's contacts knew where he'd gone. And then Jim saw Frank see the area the police had cordoned off with yellow and black tapes, and his sheer horror and guilt and almost animalistic urge to flee the scene and escape his responsibilities. 

And then - worst of all - Jim saw Sam's broken and bloody body on the road, and Winowa's choking sobs as she stood, alone and fragile suddenly, in the wake of the gore and horror. He knew from Frank's mind that Winona had gone into shock, and was staying in the local hospital while Frank had been given guardianship of the house and its occupants. 

Jim wanted to throw up. 

What happened next was a blur, and Jim would never really remember what exactly transpired that day in his mother's bedroom. He remembers leaving, stumbling and hollow and cold inside, his knuckles bruised and bloodied when checked himself in the mirror of some train station toilet. He remembers seeing a red haze as he walked by the roadside, trying to find his way to somewhere, anywhere other than the stupid fucking town where his brother had died and no one had even bothered to inform him. 

Most of all, he remembers the blinding, dark guilt and the agonizing, red pain. He didn't even know whether the extreme emotions he felt were from Frank's own mind. Perhaps, he thought, it was a little of both. Frank's animalistic fear and desperation to be free from responsibility and Jim's own choking guilt, that he had been so happy and raucous a town away when his brother had been spilling his guts out on a remote highway road. 

Later, when he came to his senses on board a train which he suspected he had paid for and boarded without even bothering to check the destination, he would read a newspaper article in which Frank had claimed that they hadn't even exchanged words before Jim had just started hitting him. Apparently, Jim hadn't exactly hit him hard enough to land him into a hospital. Still, the bastard was filing charges, and Jim was surprised that he still had enough feelings left to be hurt that Winona hadn't stopped him. 

He should have panicked, should have been afraid and helpless. Maybe he was just too hollow and tired and messed up in the head, a freak with supernatural abilities no one should have, but all he felt was the distinctive gut feeling that this was right. 

So there Jim was, on a train heading to nowhere he knew, knuckles bruised and shirt probably bloody, just another boy of seventeen with a broken heart, although from a different cause. 

When night fell, Jim Kirk sat in his seat, trying to sleep even though he knew it was hopeless. The curtains were shut, and Jim didn't have the heart or energy to part them. Then he felt the first brush of the phantom hand against his wrist. 

After all the pain and hurt his psychic abilities had brought him in the past hours, Jim's first reaction was to scream; and he did. But the sound froze and stuck in his throat, because he had swiftly after recognized the psychic presence as the very same one from his childhood. The same one who had soothed and comforted him after the incident with the ceiling lights. 

And how small that incident, which had meant a world to his younger self, seemed to Jim now. Unbidden tears filled Jim's eyes, and suddenly he was crying for the first time in years since his father had died, small, broken sobs in the quiet of the night as the train rocked on, and on on the railroad, as the invisible hand held him. 

The last thing Jim felt before he slipped under into sleep was a press of phantom lips on his forehead, soft and barely there, tentative as if afraid that he or she was trespassing. No one had given Jim such a gentle, intimate touch since his father had died and his mother had went drinking and left him and his brother alone. Jim remembered feeling a warm ache in his chest before sleep finally claimed him in its deep depths. 

..... 

His dreams were not peaceful. The dark, wailing demon of guilt would not relinquish its hold on Jim, and his sleep was plagued with nightmares filled with Frank's emotions, Winona's cold indifference and Sam's bloody, wrecked body, his brother's dead mouth moving, screaming at him, "Why weren't you here? You were all I had left when Mum was gone!" And that was wrong, wrong and wrong; Sam would never say that, would he? Jim tried to protest, he was away, and no one had told him! The demon in Jim's dreams laughed, and it sounded awfully like Frank. "Do you really believe that? You think that none of this was your fault? You should have been there with your brother, instead of your friends. Or are you just going to blame this all on Frank and your mother?" It said, its tone scornful and mocking as its voice changed from Frank, to Winona, to Sam, and finally, George Kirk. 

Jim woke up screaming, but no sound came out. He realized that he was having a panic attack; he couldn't breathe, and everything was spiraling out of his control - he couldn't - he couldn't -

Then hands were on his shoulders, and a voice was in his ear. Jim's first instinct was to strike out, but he couldn't muster the strength. Slowly, he realized that the hands were old and small but strangely grounding, and the voice was firm and calming. He began to relax, and when his vision focused, Jim found that he could breathe again. 

He was looking at a woman who was probably a decade or so older than his mother. She had a more mature aura than Winowa had ever had, even before George's death. Jim thought that she looked very matronly, and her aura had a warm and loving glow to it. She had brown hair that was tied up in a severe bun, which Jim thought didn't fit her personality at all, and startling eyes that were a curious mix of hazel and green that Jim couldn't pin down. For an instant, Jim frowned. Those eyes were oddly familiar. 

The woman smiled, as if she knew his thoughts. Jim didn't think she shared his abilities, but then, he didn't have much practice either, did he? Nevertheless, he had a good impression of her, and he hoped that she didn't have what he could only acknowledge as a curse. 

"My name is Eleanor, by you can call me Mrs McCoy," The woman told Jim, still smiling. 

"I'm Jim," Jim blurted out. He hadn't meant to say his real name, but what could it hurt? No one on the train probably even knew where Iowa was, and "Jim" was a common enough name anyway. 

"Now, Jim, I noticed that you look beat up. And as someone with a whole family of doctors, I can't help myself. I hope you won't mind some advice from an old lady," Mrs McCoy said, shaking her head with a smile when Jim opened his mouth to protest that she wasn't old at all. "My son is a practicing doctor in Georgia, where this train is headed. Here, this is his card."

Despite Jim's reluctance, he accepted the card Mrs McCoy handed him. The second his hand made contact with the business card, a jolt of emotions and events appeared in his mind. In spite of his best efforts to control his unfounded reaction, Jim was sure that Mrs McCoy had to have seen his shock, but if she had, she made no sign of noticing. 

Upon touching the card, Jim had immediately known that it was not an extra card that Mrs McCoy had carried with her, not that he had thought that she was the type who went around advertising her son's services anyway. However, he certainly hadn't expected the card to be a prized possession that her son had given her years ago, when he had first became a professional doctor. 

Feeling the rough material of the card, Jim knew that Mrs McCoy had kept it carefully in a compartment in her wallet in which nothing but her most treasured things rested. The card stated that the doctor's name was Doctor Leonard H. McCoy, but Jim knew that Mrs McCoy called him by his nickname, Len. 

Jim tried to get a vague impression of the doctor, but nothing much came up other than Mrs McCoy's fond memories and thoughts of her son. The card had been too long in her possession for Jim to dig up much about its original owner. It didn't matter. Jim would have to go down to the hospital now anyway; he owed Mrs McCoy that. Although... 

Jim fixed a questioning gaze on the brown-haired woman. Mrs McCoy raised an eyebrow elegantly, daring him to go on. 

"I, um, can tell that this means a lot to you... Why would you...?" Jim gestured towards himself awkwardly. It wasn't his most intelligible speech, but a night filled with tormenting nightmares and the life-changing revelation the day before hadn't exactly made Jim at his most coherent and glib-tongued. 

But once again, Mrs McCoy seemed to understand. She smiled. "You're not cursed, Jim. You'll go to Len, won't you?" Mrs McCoy asked, reaching out and taking hold of one of Jim's hands. It was the same hand that the invisible hand had touched the night before. 

Jim's gaze jerked up, from where their hands were joined, to Mrs McCoy's eyes. Jim had long since learned that eyes could transmit, or even betray, the most genuine feelings in the human arsenal. 

But when Jim looked into her striking eyes, he saw no sign of recognition. She wasn't the owner of the phantom hand. But how had she known...? 

Just then, the train's horn sounded as it guttered to a stop, pulling into the station. Mrs McCoy gave Jim a smile before gently pulling free of his grasp and standing up, filing out of the train with a rush of other passengers. The last thing she said before she left was, "Len will be able to help you." 

For a while Jim just stayed there in his seat, watching the passengers file out. However, his mind was anywhere but on the passengers. He was contemplating why Mrs McCoy had said that he wasn't 'cursed'. The only logical explanation was that Mrs McCoy, too, had certain psychic abilities. At any rate, she hadn't been the same person who had comforted Jim. 

By the time Jim made it out of the station, Mrs McCoy was long gone. Jim checked the local map, trying to figure out where Mrs McCoy's son's hospital was. 

Georgia. Huh. Jim huffed as he scanned the map. That had been where the Kirks were about to move to... And where Jim had so vehemently objected to going. His smile faltered, as it always did when Jim thought of the subject. He had always wondered... If they had all moved to Georgia, his father would probably never have died. 

The memory of Sam's death hit him again, and Jim winced, shutting his eyes against the pain and guilt that hit him like a brick house of emotions. Mrs McCoy was wrong. Jim was cursed, one way or another. With effort, Jim managed to shut the emotions out of his head, at least for the time being. 

Focusing all his efforts on the map, Jim managed to locate the hospital. It was one of the largest hospitals in Georgia, Jim noticed, and near the station. He could understand why Mrs McCoy was proud of her son. He was probably brilliant at what he did and filial, the model son. The sort that Jim's own mother would never get. 

Desperate or rid his mind of such thoughts, Jim started to walk hurriedly towards his destination, distracting himself. 

.....

Which was how Jim found himself knocking on the door of one Doctor Leonard H. McCoy's consultation room. After hearing the muffled "come in" from the doctor, Jim gave himself half a minute before entering the room. 

He hadn't gone to see a doctor in years, but surely that wasn't a cause for nervousness. In all honesty, Jim himself didn't know why he was so wound up. It was just a doctor. Even though Mrs McCoy's remarks had been rather strange, surely...

Steeling himself, Jim turned the knob and entered the room. 

The doctor was sitting behind the desk, his head lowered as he scribbled something down in a medical file. He didn't seem to notice Jim's presence, or if he did, he gave no sign of registering it. 

The doctor had a head of carefully combed dark colored hair -not that Jim was one to judge, he spent some mornings combing his messy golden locks into perfection. When he finally lifted his head, the first things Jim noticed were that one, the man was younger than he had expected, perhaps only in his late twenties. And secondly, Jim thought somewhat distractedly, he made the medical uniform look unfairly attractive. 

It was true. Leonard McCoy had the eyes of that same shade of indescribable hazel-green as his mother. But while Mrs McCoy's eyes were kind and sternly amused, her son's eyes were slightly more somber and deep. They were like a toned down version of the elder McCoy's eyes, but surprisingly no less beautiful or intriguing. In fact, Jim found that the minute his eyes met the doctor's, he felt a shock run through his body. 

He had no idea whether it was just because of the attraction he felt for the doctor's appeal, or something more supernatural. 

The doctor had lips as full and tempting as sin, which were currently curled in a scowl. And even that face looked attractive on Doctor McCoy, Jim couldn't help noticing. When he spoke, there was the slightest hint of a Southern accent in his words, and damn if Jim didn't think that that was hot. 

"James Kirk, is it, kid? You going to sit down or stand there all day?" Doctor McCoy asked, his tone exasperated but not unkind. 

"Call me Jim," Jim corrected automatically. No one called him James, except perhaps his parents when they were angry with him. Jim refused to think of that now. "And I'm not a kid." He added. 

The doctor gave Jim a once over, and Jim couldn't resist the urge to leer as he sat, even though there was nothing sexual about the inspection at all. 

Doctor McCoy frowned, but said nothing. As he requested for Jim to hold out his hands for him to check his knuckles, his expression was disapproving. When he spoke, his tone was almost disappointed and it made Jim feel like a child again, six years old and looking down at his shoelaces while the doctor admonished him. It made Jim almost regret the suggestive look he had given in doctor. Almost. 

The minute the doctor's hand touched Jim's, Jim jerked visibly, a reaction he couldn't even begin to hide. 

Doctor McCoy would probably be looking at him funny now, but Jim couldn't bring himself to care. The touch felt electric, as if he had literally been shocked. Along with the touch, Jim felt a psychic presence so strong that he was sure that it was at least as powerful as him own. 

But that wasn't just it. The presence was familiar. Almost like the phantom touch from before... No, it was the same touch, only the psychic presence was magnified by a million times. Jim felt almost giddy from the power he could feel emitting from the doctor. He absentmindedly wondered if his own felt the same to Doctor McCoy. No wonder Mrs McCoy had looked so familiar. Inexplicably, the connection sent pleasure right down his spine in shudders. 

"Kid? You okay?" The doctor's slightly rough voice roused Jim from his thoughts as Doctor McCoy let go of his hand. 

As soon as the contact disappeared, the connection broke. Jim blinked. Doctor McCoy was looking at him with concern, an eyebrow raised quizzically. Didn't the doctor recognize him? 

"I'll give you some cream for your bruises. Don't over exert that finger for at least the next few hours." Doctor McCoy told him, then frowned when Jim showed no sign of having heard him. "You okay, kid? You don't look like you have a concussion, but..." 

"I'm fine..." Jim quickly said, even though he was still stunned from the unexpected shock. "Um, your mother sent me down here." 

"That so?" Doctor McCoy's eyebrow rose even higher, and Jim thought with amusement that it was in danger of disappearing into his hairline. 

So. It was as Jim had guessed. Mrs McCoy definitely didn't go around recommending potential patients to her son. "Yeah, she said..." It was now or never. "She said that you could help me." 

Hesitantly, Jim looked up from under his eyelashes at the doctor. 

He watched as high color flooded Doctor McCoy's cheeks, and was satisfied that he had gotten some sort of reaction, even if his actions had been accidental. "Yeah." The doctor finally said, in a low and soft voice. 

So the good doctor did know about Jim's supernatural abilities. Jim had no doubt now that he was Jim's phantom guardian angel, even though he now thought that maybe he hadn't been that memorable after all. For all he knew, the doctor reached out to every upset child he could sense. 

It was fine. Even if the doctor didn't remember him, surely Jim could still learn something from him. Jim had never met someone with as much psychic energy as Doctor McCoy. 

Glancing at the clock, Doctor McCoy said, "Kid, I can help you, but you'll have to wait." 

So Jim sat outside the doctor's room with the rest of the patients, waiting for his shift to end. The nurses shot him curious glances, but they seemed to respect Doctor McCoy's authority enough to let him stay. 

Jim watched as patients went into the room, and left. Some left with grimaces on their faces, but most left with a smile on their faces, clutching on to the slips of prescriptions. Yeah, definitely a good doctor. 

He must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing he knew, a familiar and comforting hand was on his shoulder. For a moment, opening bleary eyes, Jim couldn't remember where he was. When he saw the dark haired and hot man standing beside him, he reflexively flashed the Kirk charm, giving a lazy smile and winking. 

When the man scowled and took his hand off his shoulder, the illusion dissipated. The memory of where he was and why he was here came back, and his smile faltered. Jim knew that at some point he'd probably have to face up to what he had left in Iowa, but he didn't want to think about that now. 

"Hey, Bones. You look hot in civilian clothes," Jim drawled. 

The doctor raised his eyebrows. "'Bones'?" He asked, and god, there it was again, that barest hint of Georgian drawl. It was unbelievably hot and maybe just what Jim needed to distract himself. Besides, he shared his own supernatural abilities. Jim couldn't freak him out with them, could he? 

So Jim laid on his charm thick, and replied, "Bones. Like 'sawbones', y'know? So are you gonna take me home, Bones?" 

Bones, who had changed into casual jeans and a buttoned top, looked even better than before. His hair had been tousled by the change of clothing, and Jim decided that it was not fair how the doctor still looked attractive. 

Bones gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'll take it that you don't live around here. Come on, let's get you some clothes." With that, he turned away and made for the lift, not looking back or see if Jim followed. 

.... 

"Bones. Boooones." Leonard sighed as the kid moaned insistently from behind him. "Damn it, kid, what are you, a five year old?" He turned around reluctantly. 

Leonard had brought Jim to a clothing store, because his own clothes probably wouldn't fit the kid. He was exasperated by the kid's flirtations, especially because they sparked something in him that he never wanted to relieve ever again. Not that he would admit that to anyone. 

But his mother had never gone wrong yet , even if her powers had dimmed with age. Leonard trusted her, and so he would have to live with the kid for a while at least.

Besides, Leonard remembered the kid's aura, even if Jim believed otherwise. The kid had been right about who Leonard reached out to, but Leonard only ever reached out for the younger kids. That Leonard had helped Jim was purely because of how strongly the kid's emotions had been projected out. Leonard couldn't have shut him out if he tried. 

The kid had talent, he had to admit. Neither Leonard nor his mother had ever met anyone with that much of the shining. And the kid looked bright. Perhaps teaching the kid something wouldn't be so tiresome after all. 

A hand was being waved around in front of his line of vision, so Leonard was forced to look up. "Wha-?" His words died in his throat when he saw Jim. 

The kid was wearing a close-fitting, pitch-black tank top and tight leather pants that showed off just how long and lanky his legs were. Shit. No matter how much Leonard wanted to call Jim "kid", he would never be able to pull it off after seeing how much Jim was definitely not a kid anymore. 

Or maybe Leonard just had inherent pedophilic tendencies, although that seemed unlikely. That was one insult even his ex had never come up with. 

Jim smirked, a rakish grin that made Leonard uncomfortably aware of just how sensuous and enticing Jim's lips suddenly were. He must have cleaned himself up in the washroom. Leonard had to swallow before he spoke, his mouth having gone dry. 

Jim's brilliant blue eyes weren't helping Leonard's case, either. Leonard swallowed again, hard, but when he finally spoke, his voice was still an octave lower than his usual tone. 

"Finally done choosing clothes, Jim? Come on, let's go." Leonard said thickly, and caught a flash of heat in Jim's eyes. Trying to hide his quickening pulse, Leonard turned away abruptly and headed out of the shop. He heard Jim's laughter behind him, and couldn't help the answering smile that spread out on his face as he shook his head. 

Outside, night was just falling upon the Georgian sky. Jim stopped suddenly, right in the middle of the street. 

Leonard sighed, and slowed down his pace, turning back towards the blue-eyed not-quite-boy. Jim was looking up at the sky. Leonard frowned, glancing up. "Do you... Do you like the stars?" He asked. The Georgian night sky was beautiful, but Leonard had never held much interest in the stars that adorned the backdrop of the night sky specifically. 

Jim nodded, his lips forming a surprisingly fond smile. It was nothing like the flirtatious and suggestive smirks and grins that Jim had sent his way. When he spoke, Jim's voice was soft. "Yeah," He replied, his voice hushed in awe. He started reciting the stars in the sky, some of which the naked eye couldn't even see, but he knew were there because his brother Sam had taught him. 

And Leonard stayed silent beside him, not because he was avidly listening to Jim's words as he probably thought. No, Leonard wasn't complaining because he was lost in Jim's soft and almost reverent tone and how the streetlights shone on Jim's face, accentuating his cheekbones. Leonard found himself wondering how it would be like to hear Jim say his name in that fervent and affectionate voice, and how it would feel to kiss those tantalizing and pillowy lips. 

He jerked himself away from those distracting thoughts in time. What was wrong with him? Leonard knew exactly how old Jim wasn't; he probably wasn't even legal yet. Sixteen? Seventeen? After all those lectures he had given the kids with dubious or embarrassing injuries in the hospital wards, he would be the worse kind of hypocrite to want to... 

Damn it, this wasn't happening. 

Jim - kid, he was still a kid!- seemed to notice that something was wrong. "Bones?" He questioned, breaking off in the middle of a speech about one of the constellations, looking worried. 

"It's nothing." Leonard said quickly, but Jim was distracted now. Instead of returning to his grand speeches, he turned his full attention to Leonard. 

"You look... Flushed, Bones. Are you having a fever?" Jim continued, pressing a hand to Leonard's forehead. "No!" Leonard gasped out, flustered, stepping away quickly. When he looked back at Jim, he immediately felt guilty. The kid was trying to maintain a smile, but it was slipping, and the hurt and distress he projected would make every mind-reader in the vicinity have an aching heart. 

"Shit, kid... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that." Leonard apologized, unbearably conscious of how hollow it sounded. 

Jim flashed a plastic smile at him, and Leonard could feel his mental walls go up. Even so, his lack of self esteem, even some sort of guilt, permeated clearly into the air. 

Leonard felt his heart twist. When he'd first saw Jim in that hospital room... He'd thought that Jim was just another rebellious teenager with an immortal complex. Further analysis had proved that Jim might be one, but he definitely had more emotional baggage than most other kids on the streets. 

Jim looked so vulnerable under the nostalgic light the streetlights cast on his lanky frame. Suddenly, he looked so much younger, and Leonard saw beyond the defined but lean muscles and flirtatious charm. Under it all, Jim was a guilt-wrecked, confused kid. 

Which made Leonard's next move completely inexcusable. But before he knew what he was doing, Leonard had placed a grounding hand on Jim's cheek and was leaning in to kiss him. 

Leonard could feel the kid's shock like a stroke of lightning. Or maybe that was just because they both had the shining, and it was strong enough to spark a connection. He could see the fluttering of those unfairly attractive lashes, and feel Jim's body start to relax and lean into the contact. 

On an impulse, Leonard reached for Jim's hand, the one he had touched before using the shining, with his free hand. The extra contact immediately sent shivers of pleasure running down both their spines, and as the connection strengthened, Leonard risked sending a thought to Jim. 

(You okay, Jim?) 

Jim jerked back, and their lips parted with a soft pop that made color flood Leonard's cheeks. He was about to apologize for being so rash when Jim pulled Leonard towards him, their foreheads touching. 

"Did... Did you do that?" Jim whispered, his voice breathless and excited. 

"Yeah," Leonard answered, and his voice hitched embarrassingly. He switched to using his thoughts instead. 

(The more contact there is, the stronger the connection) 

Jim hesitated, before Leonard saw his blue eyes close in concentration. 

(Like... Like this?) 

Leonard nodded. 

Jim took a step back, and exhaled. "Wow. I didn't even know I could do that." 

Leonard released the kid, a little reluctantly. "Yeah, it's all part of having the shining. I can teach you," He offered. He'd never really asked Jim if he wanted to learn, although that had been his assumption for his mother's actions. 

Jim looked hesitant. "I... I'm not sure I want these powers." Leonard could sense that he had associated the shining with some tragedy that had happened to him, or at least blamed himself and his powers for it. 

They walked in silence for a while. "Jim... You'll never really be able to get rid of the shining, but you could learn to use it for the better." Leonard finally said. 

Jim tilted his head, questioning. "Is that what these... Psychic abilities are called?" He asked. 

"It's what my mother and I call it," Leonard replied, remembering how his mother had taught him to harness his shining. There had been a great deal of fun involved, so Leonard had never really associated his powers with darkness and horror until he'd started seeing into the minds of others. Sometimes, Leonard mused, the thoughts and ghosts of people were scarier than the actual ghosts themselves. 

Jim looked smug. "I knew your mother had it too. But yours seems much stronger." The kid commented. 

"The shining fades with age in some, but never totally." Leonard told him. Once, when Leonard had still been a child, Eleanor McCoy had had much more of the shining than him. Now, the reverse was true. 

They had reached the porch of Leonard's home. Jim looked up at the two-story high building, conversation momentarily forgotten. "You live here alone, Bones?" Jim asked. 

Leonard's hand, which had been about to open the front door, faltered for a split second. "I do now." He said quietly, hoping that Jim wouldn't pick up on his discomfort. It was probably in vain. Someone with the shining so strong in them would be able to sense the pain of loss all over the house anyway. 

Jim didn't say anything as he followed Leonard into the house, but Leonard could hear his thoughts anyway. The kid probably didn't mean to, but Leonard could feel the thoughts practically being projected to him. 

"Sit." Leonard said gruffly, motioning to the single couch. The house was a mess. Jocelyn and her army of lawyers and movers hadn't bothered about the wreckage they left behind, and Leonard couldn't bring himself to care either. The Leonard who wallowed in bourbon and self-pity in the privacy of his home wasn't one his colleagues at the hospital would have recognized. 

Leonard saw no need to pretend in front of the kid. He probably wouldn't be able to hide from his shining anyway, and if the waves of turmoil and self-hatred he had sensed on the kid when he had first stepped into the hospital room were anything to go by, the kid was no stranger to such emotions anyway. 

If Jim was bothered by the untidiness of the house, he didn't mention it. He sat obediently, flashing a suggestive look at Leonard. "So. Do you have a reputation to uphold around here? Or do you often bring home young boys and girls?" 

Leonard rolled his eyes. After seeing Jim's reaction to Leonard's kiss, he could no longer muster up enough vitriol to seriously reprimand Jim for his lewd flirtations. 

"First of all, what do you already know about the shining?" Leonard asked. He saw no point in dancing around the subject.

Sure enough, Jim's expression sobered. "When I was... Younger, I could see ghosts. At least that was what my parents" - a barely perceptible cringe here - "said. I don't really remember." 

Leonard nodded. "I used to see them too, when I was a kid. But that ability faded." He added. 

Jim agreed. "Yeah. And... I can read people's auras. Thoughts, too, but I'd have to probe." He looked sheepish. "Sometimes, I can look through their eyes." Jim added. 

Leonard raised an eyebrow, even though he wasn't really surprised. "You mean astral projection?" Leonard had done it before, but it could be dangerous. There was always a risk that one could be stuck in a certain astral plane and be unable to return to the body. Someone with the shining as strong as Jim's could easily manage the feat, even though the risk was still there. 

Jim frowned, his eyes squinting as he tried to figure out what the unfamiliar term meant. "It means an out of body experience," Leonard explained. Then, at a sudden realization, he asked suspiciously, "Kid, you're skipping classes to be here, aren't you?"

Pointedly ignoring the question, Jim quickly said, "But I never knew that I could talk to people in their heads." 

"Only to people who have the shining." Leonard said, and watched as Jim's smile fell. He could only guess what the kid had been about to do with his newly-found powers. "You'll find that many people actually have a bit of the shining." Leonard pacified. 

Jim grinned. Leonard smiled in return, in spite of everything. Maybe the kid wasn't such bad company after all. 

.....

They spent hours talking, with Jim asking questions and Bones answering them. Jim learned far more than he could have had experimenting by himself, even if he tried. At some point, Jim couldn't help asking, "Is the shining hereditary? Does everyone in your family have it?" 

Bones paused for a while before answering carefully. "My mother and I both have it, but my father didn't." There was something else he wasn't saying, but Jim didn't want to probe, either with words or mentally, so he let it go. 

It was Jim's turn to make some sort of remark, but he didn't, so for a moment, an awkward silence hung in the air. 

Then Bones asked, not unkindly, "Something on your mind?"

He had a worried look on his face; eyebrows slightly raised together, hazel-green eyes startling honest and compassionate, and mouth set in a worried line. 

A touch of something warm wormed its way into Jim's heart. "I... I've always thought of the shining as a curse." Jim admitted softly. "It... As realists, my parents never liked that sort of thing. Especially after my father died."

Bones' expression softened. "Oh, kid," He started, and Jim couldn't -wouldn't be able to- stand the pity starting to form in his eyes. Not after what had happened back in Iowa. So he plastered on a smile that he knew looked real enough from practice, and tossed his head back flippantly. 

"Don't," He laughed, playing for casual, but the sound came out all wrong. 

"Jim." Bones said, his voice soft. The tone made something in Jim ache, and Bones' expression... It was fond and patient, the things his mother hadn't been since his father had died. 

It was crazy, Jim knew, even in his mind. God, he'd only met Bones today! So what if he'd been idolizing him since the day he had reached out to him with the shining? Bones probably didn't even remember him. It was insane! He was James Tiberius Kirk, he wasn't infatuated with a man he had just met! 

But he kissed you, and you're in his house now, his brain supplied. Jim almost groaned aloud. Shit, Bones had the shining too. Could he hear his thoughts...? Jim sneaked a glance at the doctor, but he was only raising an eyebrow. Good. 

"Jim, the shining doesn't have to be a curse." Bones said. "My mother and I used to have a lot of fun with it when I was a kid." Then, he reached out to take hold of Jim's hand, the one his phantom hand had touched before. Jim told himself it was just a coincidence. 

This time, the electrifying thrill of connection was more muted, only sending a tingling feeling in Jim's hand. Jim saw through his mind's eye how Bones and Mrs McCoy had communicated solely by their thoughts using the shining and using telekinesis to lift things. 

(I can't do that anymore) 

Jim thought about how he had broken the ceiling lights and that glass. And suddenly, the red waves of gore and horror and his own guilt returned, and Jim broke the connection hastily, without even knowing how. 

He couldn't breathe. And this was like the train all over again, but there was Bones here too... He'd save him, wouldn't he? Jim had a moment more of doubt, before Bones' comforting and familiar and live-saving hand were on his shoulders. 

"It's okay, breathe, breathe, that's it, in, out, in, out..." Slowly, under the litany of Bones' repetitive words, Jim found his breath again. 

Later, after Bones had gotten him a cup of water from the kitchen, he said, "Thanks, Bones." 

Bones just looked at him, gaze a curious mixture of exasperation and worry. He could have pressed the matter, but he didn't. 

After that neither of them said anything, and the silence returned. Jim glanced at the clock. It was getting late. Bones must have seen the gesture, because he said, "I have a guest room." 

Jim nodded gratefully. It wasn't that he didn't like Bones' company, no, of course not. But Jim felt plagued by his thoughts of what had happened back in Iowa, and he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on a conversation like that. 

It also meant that he would have to face his demons alone, but Jim had already known that he couldn't run from them forever. 

Bones' guest room was much tidier compared to the rest of the house. Jim didn't need to push his senses to know that it hadn't been occupied in a long time. 

The bed sheets looked like they hadn't been changed since the last visitor had left, but Jim wasn't complaining. The sink in the bathroom, surprisingly, still had the regular toiletries, and Jim brushed his teeth with the toothpaste that didn't look too expired. 

Looking in the mirror was a bad idea. The minute he made eye contact with himself in the mirror, the voices and red haze came back. "It's all your fault!" The voice in his head screamed at him. It sounded too much like Sam. In his mind's eye, he saw Winona with her head buried in her hands. "Just come back, please. Frank's already dropped the charges, where are you?" She muttered, her voice broken. 

It could have been just a hallucination from his tired nerves, but Jim didn't think so, especially after all that Bones had told him today. Besides, it hardly fitted into the self-hatred mojo that his mind was set on. 

Jim didn't know what the feel about it. He hated his mother for leaving him and Sam to fend for themselves for years, for bringing home someone like Frank, for not even caring to tell him face to face that his brother was dead. But once, Jim had loved her too, when she had still been a loving mother. 

Jim stood in front of the mirror for a moment more, firmly not looking at his reflection, before heading off to bed. 

..... 

Leonard didn't know exactly what woke him up, only that one second he was sound asleep, and the next he was wide awake, eyes open, frozen as if he'd just had a nightmare. 

But he knew he hadn't. Lately, his dead father had played a starring role in his nightmares, and he always remembered every single torturous moment. So he calmed himself and closed his eyes again, spreading out his consciousness. 

There weren't any trespassers in his house. It couldn't be his neighbors. While Leonard's premonitory powers had once stretched to the people living around him, it had long since been contained to just those close to his heart. And few of those people were alive now. 

Just in case, Leonard decided to call his mother. Joanna, however... He couldn't imagine that Jocelyn would be thrilled to receive a midnight call. 

As Leonard walked towards the living room to get his phone, he suddenly heard a whimper. Leonard froze. Damn it! How could he have forgotten? It had to be Jim. 

Quickly walking to the guest room, he found the door firmly locked. When he called out loudly, there was no sign that Jim had heard him. "Damn it, Jim!" He hissed under his breath as he rummaged for the key in the store room. The occasional gasps and and muffled whimpers did nothing to help his concentration. 

When he finally managed to find the key -which was a miracle all in itself, considering the state of Leonard's store room- and slotted it into the keyhole, a thought suddenly inserted itself into his mind, too quickly for him to block it out. Why was he so concerned about Jim? 

Yes, Jim was his guest, and he'd been raised by his mother to have Southern hospitality, but why was he in such a hurry just because he'd heard him having a nightmare? Why had he assumed that his premonition was about Jim? 

Then Leonard burst through the door and saw Jim clutching at his arms so hard that semi-circle marks from his nails were appearing, still very much asleep, and all coherent thoughts fled his mind. 

He raced to the bed, straddling Jim and slamming his wandering hands down by his sides with enough force to hurt, but he couldn't care about that now. Jim's eyelids were fluttering, and Leonard could see the whites of his eyes. Sweat was streaming down the side of Jim's face, and he bucked against Leonard, who might've welcomed the action at anything other time, but definitely not now. 

A whine of pure terror escaped Jim's throat as he struggled, and Leonard leaned forward and shouted into his ear, "Jim, it's just a nightmare! Wake up!" 

Jim's eyes jerked wide open, and for a moment, his eyes were wild, those baby blues blown wide, staring at Leonard. Leonard could feel Jim's suddenly still body under him. He felt a bolt of sensation run through his body and coil in his gut, and he grunted and quickly let go of Jim, rolling over to the side. 

"You okay, kid?" He asked, his voice rough, and Jim blinked slowly. When he opened his eyes again, the pupils were constricting back to their usual size. Recognition appeared like a light in his blue eyes. 

"Bones," He murmured, and his voice was soft again, and the awe was there too, with a hint of confusion. Leonard never thought he'd be so glad to hear Jim say that stupid nickname. 

Then Jim sobered up. "Wait, Bones, why're you-" Realization flooded him, and Leonard could feel the waves of horror and confusion in his mind. "Oh," Jim finally said, voice small and subdued and just a little shaky. 

Leonard thought that Jim would start telling him about his nightmares, but all the kid did was sit up and trudge towards the bathroom unsteadily, shutting the door unceremoniously. 

"Jim," Leonard sighed. Then, louder, he called out, "Jim, you can't run from this! You nearly strangled yoursel-" He heard a sudden muffled yell, and Leonard felt panic sear into him like a fire brand. 

When he pulled the bathroom door open, he saw that Jim had a hand clapped over his mouth to keep himself from screaming and his eyes in the reflection of the mirror were wild and unfocused. He was staring at the mirror, and it was apparent that what Jim was seeing wasn't the same as what Leonard was. 

Leonard concentrated, and looked into Jim's mind to see through his eyes. It was easy, considering how weak Jim's mental defenses were currently, but Leonard felt guilty for invading his privacy. 

When he looked at the mirror again, the reflection was of another man. The man's features were contorted in agony, and his jacket was torn and stained with blood. Leonard had no idea who the man in the mirror was, but Jim's mind screamed a name: Sam. 

Memories flooded Leonard's -or Jim's, where his consciousness was- mind and Leonard saw that the man was Jim's brother. It was hard to imagine that the tormented man in the mirror was the same one as the smiling man in Jim's memories, but when Leonard focused, he could see the resemblance. 

The man had brown hair and eyes, but his features, even contorted, resembled Jim. Leonard shuddered at the thought of whether that was how Jim himself would look like. Too late, he realized that Jim would hear it. 

A mental wall slammed right into Leonard, and he quickly left Jim's mind. When he saw through his own eyes again, Jim had calmed down, and he wasn't looking at the mirror anymore. Even without intruding Jim's mind, Leonard could tell that the man in the mirror, Sam, had disappeared. 

"Jim, I'm sorry-" Leonard started, but Jim shook his head. "Not the time, Bones," He whispered hoarsely, and headed back to the bedroom, brushing against Leonard as he left. 

Leonard looked after him, watched as Jim sat down on the edge of the bed, his body language that of a tired old man. It made Leonard unreasonably angry. If anyone in the house was an old soul, it should be Leonard himself. 

Eventually, Leonard backed out of the guest room, closing the door softly behind him. He heard a soft sigh exhaled as he left, and felt mixed feelings. 

Leonard couldn't sleep. He didn't regret peeking into Jim's mind to find out what he had seen, because he knew he had to understand the situation to find a solution. But he couldn't help thinking that he'd overstepped a line. Damn it, what if the kid insisted on leaving? Leonard couldn't stop him, but he still had things to teach him... 

That wasn't the full truth either, but Leonard didn't think he was ready to admit anything else to himself. Almost unconsciously, he closed his eyes and reached out, reflexively seeking out kids whose auras had a blue, sad tinge. 

The most obvious aura came from Jim, and Leonard hesitated before pointedly ignoring it. He offered his usual comfort to the kids who were feeling down, as he had done since he'd been a teenager. His mother had done it before him, and Leonard was determined to continue the tradition. It had been the one thing, along with his profession, that he had never given up on, even during his darker periods when Jocelyn had left him. 

When he felt weariness seep into his mind, he slowly withdrew himself. He felt Jim's mind again, and paused. 

.....

In the guest room, Jim couldn't sleep. The previously comfortable bed suddenly felt like a nest of thorns, and nothing Jim did would relieve the headache-inducing thoughts and his irrational fear that if he glanced elsewhere, Sam's ghost would reappear to haunt him. 

Jim's shining had never made him hallucinate before; he had learnt that all the things the shining made him see were real events or people who had been. Bones had mentioned that he had premonitory visions, but Jim had never had one. 

Besides, Bones had been there, too. In his mind. While Jim had felt the uncomfortable feeling of intrusion long before Bones had known, it was the shuddering thought that had made Jim slam down his walls. 

Maybe Jim deserved it. He should have been there for Sam, because even Frank had, and who was that asshole son of a bitch compared to Sam's own brother? And Sam hadn't even been the screwed up one in the family. That had always been Jim, the freak with supernatural powers. 

Bones had said that the shining wasn't always a curse, but that was how Jim had viewed it as for as long as he could remember. And hadn't the latest shining-induced nightmare proved just that? 

It wasn't as if he doubted Bones; he didn't think Bones would lie to him about something like that. But maybe Bones had just been raised differently, with a family that encouraged the shining. 

It probably helped that Bones had never had to see the ghost of someone he loved. 

Jim winced. Now that was just plain unfair, and he knew it. 

Just then, he felt a brush of someone's presence. With a jolt of surprise, he realized that it was Bones'. Almost unconsciously, Jim relaxed, and the phantom hand held his hand and squeezed. 

.....

When morning came, Jim greeted Leonard in the living room with a sheepish smile. Leonard gave a slight shake of his head, and smiled back. 

The kid looked much better in the morning light, now that his demons were gone for the moment. He must have had a good night's sleep. The sunlight streaming in from the windows cast a white light upon Jim, and his blue eyes and golden hair looked almost angelic in the halo effect it created. 

"Uh, what's for breakfast, Bones?" Jim suddenly asked, snapping Leonard right out of his daze. 

Leonard blinked, and the illusion faded. "I cooked up something while you were still sleeping." He said, gesturing towards the kitchen. He felt, more than saw Jim's surprise as he walked to the dining table, and smiled. 

The dining table, once immaculate and clean under Jocelyn's care, had become cluttered with waste and work over the years. Leonard had done his best in the short amount of time he had before Jim had woke up to clear it, but the stacks of documents and random household items and even gifts from colleagues were unappetizing at best.

He tried not to look at Jim's reaction, but just by sensing the air he could feel Jim's discomfort. The kid had been refraining from asking direct questions since he'd arrived, but Leonard knew that he was curious about the state of his affairs. 

"The only thing my ex left me was this house," He said, a low edge to his voice. "I've... I haven't exactly been the best housekeeper since." 

Jim's face flickered, surprised. Leonard grunted, and set down the breakfast on the table. 

Eating with someone at the table brought back memories, and Leonard was pleasantly surprised when they were fond ones. Like how baby Joanna had struggled in her high chair, trying to reach the food as Jocelyn sternly forbade her to. No matter how their marriage had ended, Leonard could never deny that Jocelyn was a good mother. And it had probably been the best for Joanna to have gone with her mother, even though Leonard deeply resented Jocelyn for forcing him to part with her. 

"It's good," Jim suddenly spoke up, and Leonard blinked, returning to the present. "Yeah. Thanks, kid." He said gruffly, a little too fondly. 

Jim smiled. Not the lazy, seductive one he had flashed in the hospital, but an almost shy - as close as Jim Kirk ever got to shy - smile like the one he had worn when Leonard had kissed him on the streets. 

Inexplicably, Leonard's heart leapt, and he found himself smiling back like he hadn't in years, before his marriage had went downhill. 

Over the course of breakfast, Leonard and Jim maintained a comfortable conversation, and they shared about their lives. It wasn't awkward at all, and so domestic that it made Leonard's heart ache. 

Over the course of breakfast, Leonard came to realize that he really, really didn't want Jim to leave. And not only because he still wanted to teach him more about the shining. 

Leonard nearly ran late for work that day, something that had never happened in years. 

......

Jim shut the door, a wide and probably silly smile still hanging on his lips. 

Leonard had trusted him enough to leave the house in his care while he went off for work. He smiled to himself. The doctor wasn't that bad after all, after you saw past his gruff exterior. It didn't hurt that Jim thought that he was really hot, too. 

It was stupid, he knew, and Bones probably thought he was too old for him anyway. But Jim felt a strangely strong attachment to the gruff doctor that probably went beyond attraction. He supposed that it could be the shining. 

Jim didn't know how long he was going to stay. While Bones seemed to like him well enough -if that kiss had been any indication, he did- Jim didn't want to overstay his welcome. Besides, however much he hated his mother at the moment, he didn't want her to have to worry about him too, especially after what had happened to Sam. 

The smile slipped off Jim's face as he thought of his family. Grimly, he decided to leave a message for his mother. 

Picking up Leonard's house phone -his own had been left back in Iowa, it might not have worked in Georgia anyways- and dialed his mother's number. The solemn dial tone greeted him, and after a few beeps Jim was asked to leave a message. Jim had expected it. Ever since Winona had started drinking, her phone was almost always misplaced. He could only hope that Winona would actually listen to the message he left. 

"Hey, Mum." Jim said, surprising himself when his voice came out rough with emotion. "Look, I'm safe and fine. Don't worry about me." Then, after a short pause, he added, "Take care of yourself." He ended the message. 

Jim sighed, putting the phone down. The message was short to the point of rudeness, but Jim genuinely didn't know what to say to her. He might have said more if Winona had actual been on the line, but Jim knew that it would just have ended in a quarrel. His mother would insist on him going home, and Jim couldn't. Not yet. 

His good mood had dissipated, and suddenly the house felt empty with just him in it. Jim absentmindedly thumbed a magazine that Bones had hastily stacked on top of other jumbled documents. The issue was at least a year old. 

What had Bones said? His ex... Jim hadn't meant to pry, but Bones seemed to have sensed his curiosity anyway. So Bones was divorced. Did he have kids? The question suddenly popped into Jim's head, and he couldn't dislodge it. He was considered young, but certainly old enough to have a young kid. 

Jim moved along to the coffee table, where the Kirk household kept their carefully framed family photos. The same area in Bones' house, however, was empty, except for a bottle cap. As Jim dumped it into the rubbish bin in the kitchen, he saw the rest of the bottle. He grinned. So Bones was a bourbon man, hmm. 

There were no signs of any other family pictures anywhere else in the house. Jim even checked the bathrooms. The only place that was left was Bones' bedroom. 

Hesitation made Jim stop before the door. Snooping around the house was one thing, but Bones' own bedroom... Jim put a light hand on the knob, weighing the consequences against his insatiable curiosity. 

Finally, Jim sighed. His curiosity could wait. He didn't want Bones to get angry, or even kick him out for invading his privacy. After all, despite bringing Jim home the first day they had met, Bones seemed like a private man. If the messy state of his house was anything to go by, he didn't even have visitors over often. 

Releasing his grip on the cool door knob reluctantly, Jim turned back to the guest room. He might as well make use of the time to familiarize himself with the surroundings, and maybe get some new toothpaste- 

Jim froze, his hand on the bathroom door of the guest room. He sensed something. There was someone else in the room. 

An ominous wave of premonition swept over Jim. Without turning, he already knew who it was. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Jim rushed for the door to the living room. He didn't want to see him - he couldn't, oh god he couldn't, he might have another panic attack! 

The door was locked. Jim shook the knob, sending the door rattling at an increasingly panicked pace. Oh god, he couldn't do this, couldn't see him again- not so soon! 

A hand touched Jim's shoulder. The touch was wispy and gassy, unreal; as cold and as deadly as liquid nitrogen. Jim shuddered, and almost against his own will, he turned, and there was Sam, twisted almost beyond recognition and screaming in silent agony. This time, it was even worse. Blood was dribbling out of Sam's mouth and there were grotesque tire marks on his legs. 

Jim screamed for a long while. 

When he returned to himself, he was crying, gasping gulp after gulp of air in between near-hysterical sobs. It was the way a child cried, but Jim was too far gone in shock and horror to care. Sam, or whatever that thing had been, was gone. 

Gradually, Jim regained enough control to stop crying. His cheeks were wet and he was sure that the top part of his shirt front was soaked. His knees buckled when he tried to stand; sometime during his ordeal, he must have slid to the ground. With effort, Jim braced himself against the wall before opening the door. 

It opened without the slightest resistance. Jim staggered out, his knees nearly giving out on him when he arm left the wall. 

He couldn't stay there, not even in the living room where the front door was in sight. Jim didn't think that he could take being alone for the next few hours. But who could he call? His first thought was Bones, but he hadn't bothered to ask for his number, something he sorely regretted now. Jim doubted that Winona would take too well to suddenly receiving a call from a hysterical son, and Frank? That son of a bitch was definitely out of the choices. He didn't really have friends he trusted enough to share something like that with. They'd probably think he was crazy, or worse, tell his mother. 

And it just reminded Jim of how very much alone he was. And pathetic. Here he was, seventeen years old, and with nothing to his name but freaky abilities. 

No. He couldn't stay there alone, but... 

Minutes later, Jim had steadied his legs enough to walk to Bones' bedroom door. He smiled bitterly at the irony. Here he was after all. He briefly entertained the idea that all of this was an excuse his mind had come up to let him enter Bones' bedroom, then laughed at how he could still be in the mind to think of such conjectures. 

Bones' bedroom door was unlocked, and Jim wasn't sure whether that made him feel less guilty or more. 

The bedroom was arranged in an orderly fashion, and an attempt had actually been made to tidy the bedsheets. Maybe Bones wasn't an untidy person by nature after all. Jim collapsed on the bed, and the soft sheets and the still-there scent of Bones made Jim sigh in pleasure. He spent a few minutes just lying there, breathing in the scent of the body wash Bones used, trying not to think too much about what he was doing. Then curiosity overcame him again. 

Glancing at the bedside, Jim saw a series of framed photographs set on a cabinet. The position of the frames made it in easy reach of the person sleeping in the bed, and Jim realized with an ache that Bones must touch and look at the photos on a daily basis. 

There was no sign of the ex in the pictures, but a young girl appeared prominently in them. She looked to be about seven in the latest picture. With brown hair and dark eyes, she was beautiful. Touching the picture, Jim immediately had an impression of the girl. 

Her name was Joanna, and she was Bones' daughter after all. Her mother was a woman named Jocelyn Treadway, and she'd taken Joanna away with her after the divorce. Jim could feel that Bones loved her a lot, and he could understand why. Jim had never given children much thought; he was only seventeen after all, and after seeing his fragile his mother's care and concern towards him and Sam had become, he wasn't sure that he would ever be ready for the responsibility. 

But looking at the pictures, Jim had the sudden thought that he would be happy raising Joanna together with Bones. He instantly felt guilty for the thought, and for the breach in privacy that he was committing. But James Tiberius Kirk had never been one for doing things halfway. 

Looking at the pictures again, Jim realized that some of them included Bones. He almost didn't recognize him; the man in the pictures was clean-shaven and looked much younger, even though Jim knew the pictures couldn't be more than a few years old. 

And the most distinctive difference of all - Bones was smiling. Not the sardonic smirks or grudging smiles that Bones gave Jim, but a rare, open and joyous smile. Jim had only seen something similar once, right after Bones had kissed him. 

Jim shouldn't have flushed at the memory. It wasn't as if he were a blushing virgin anymore, so Jim didn't know why he had liked it so much. He had mostly been the dominant party in his relationships and flings, but it wasn't as if he hadn't had someone kiss him first before. 

Maybe it was the tenderness. No one back in Iowa expected or thought that Jim would want that; Jim was the brash and happy-go-lucky handsome boy with the devil may care smile, and the kisses he initiated were rarely gentle. He could do gentle, but it had never been his style. 

Or maybe it was just because it was Bones; Bones with the dark hair and eyes and honey-tinged Southern drawl, whom he had only known for a day. Bones, who shared the shining with him and was his mentor. Bones, who was grumpy and gruff but could be unexpectedly tender. 

He could imagine those big and steady doctor hands on him easily, with the sheets all around him, kissing him gently while they traced a path down his spine. He could imagine Bones' hands dipping below his waistline...

Jim had to snap his fingers to knock himself out of the daze. "Shit," He groaned, stretching out over the bed. Bones' scent was still there in the sheets, and Jim couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for fantasizing. 

Out of the blue, an elderly male voice said, "An attractive boy, isn't Leo?" 

Jim nearly jumped out of the bed. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. God, if it was another one of those... 

"Don't worry. You can't see me, and I'm not really here." The voice said again, and the Southern accent was familiar enough. 

Jim hesitated, and asked, "Are you... Bones' relative?" 

The voice, sounding amused this time, replied, "Is that your nickname for Leo? I'm his father." Jim couldn't see any manifestation in the room, so he relaxed fractionally. Besides, the voice sounded kindly. 

"Oh. Um, I'm Jim." Jim offered lamely, unsure what to say. Also, he didn't want to know how much the man knew about what he had been thinking about minutes before.

"Jim." Mr McCoy said thoughtfully. "Well. And who are you? Leo hasn't had a visitor in years, much less in his bedroom." The sentence was ended in a meaningful tone. 

There was no mirror in sight, but Jim was positive that his cheeks were burning. "Uh, Mrs McCoy told me to see him when I got injured. I'm, uh, staying here for a while." 

"Eleanor..." Mr McCoy's voice had taken on a fond note. "I was a doctor too, you know, and I don't see any injuries on you, but I won't question Leo's decisions. You're not from around here, are you?" 

"No," Jim answered truthfully. "I'm from Iowa. There were... Problems at home, so I'm here for a while." 

"Hmm." Mr McCoy sounded like he disapproved, probably noticing how young Jim still was. "Well, I hope you boys will be safe and consensual in the bedroom." He added gruffly, in a voice that definitely sounded similar to Bones'. 

Jim was about to protest and deny that no, he and Bones weren't lovers, but Mr McCoy had gone on. 

"Anyway, I came to ask you a favor." He paused here, as if waiting for Jim to agree, so Jim nodded. "Leo... He's always blamed himself for my death. Could you tell him to stop blaming himself? It wasn't his fault. My time was up, and he couldn't have known." 

Oh. So Bones, too, had lost his father to unnatural causes and blamed it on himself. Jim felt that he was being told too much, but he had no choice but to agree. "I will. But... Why can't you tell Bones yourself?" 

"I'm only a fragment of memories in this room in Leo's head. I can no more talk to him than regenerate." Mr McCoy huffed. With that, Jim could sense that he was gone. He was alone again, but this time, he didn't feel fear or loneliness because of it. 

Jim lay on Bones' bedsheets, and sighed. 

.....

When Leonard opened the front door, Jim was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was in the guest room, but an energetic -almost hyper-active- kid like Jim didn't seem the type to stay in his room all day. 

"Jim?" He called from the doorway. "It's late, but do you want to have some supper? I got some pizza!" Normally, Leonard wouldn't have bought anything more than a sandwich, but Jim was a kid, and kids liked pizzas, didn't they? Leonard knew that he still did. 

There was no reply, so Leonard set down his things on the dining table before going to the guest room to investigate. "Jim?" He asked, knocking on the door. There was no answer. "Damn it, is he already asleep?" Leonard muttered under his breath, silently opening the unlocked door. The room was dark. A closer peer told Leonard that no one was inside. 

Where could the kid have gone? "Jim? Where are you?" Leonard asked, louder, wandering into the kitchen. He wasn't there either. Leonard swore under his breath. If the kid had gone out, he had better remember his own way home, because Leonard sure wasn't going out in the cold air in the middle of the night to find him. 

Leonard stopped in his tracks. Home? When had Leonard started thinking of his house as Jim's home. The kid wasn't staying forever, and he'd only been here for a day. Maybe he'd even left while Leonard was at work. The thought sobered Leonard up. 

Hah, that was probably it. The kid had probably already left, he thought bitterly. Who had he thought he was, that the kid would stay? 

Walking back to the dining table, the pizza suddenly didn't look appetizing anymore. Leonard was tempted to just throw it in the bin, but decided that that was just childish behavior and shoved it into the fridge. It would be breakfast the next day. 

He headed to his bedroom, angry and bitter, not even sure if the emotions were directed at himself or Jim. He supposed that it was a little of both. 

So Leonard was definitely not prepared for the sight of one Jim Kirk sprawled out on his bed, very much asleep. 

Emotions rushed through Leonard's head in a flurry. Surprise, delight, anger, exasperation; they warred in his mind. When he finally got himself out of his state of shock, all he could manage was a huff. "Jim." 

The figure on the bed yawned and frowned, as if disturbed. 

"Jim." Louder, this time. 

A violent shake of his head, then said body part burrowing deep into the sheets. 

Leonard shook his head, sighing. Reaching out with his mind, he twanged at Jim's mind. 

(Jim) 

A hand rose unsteadily, clutching at golden hair that was flopping messily. 

(JIM WAKE UP, THERE'S SUPPER!) 

The figure jerked once, then moaned in a way that was decidedly unattractive. Rolling, Jim turned his face to Leonard before yawning widely, stretching out an arm. 

Leonard's eyes were involuntarily drawn to the arch of Jim's back, the tousled golden hair and sleepy blue eyes that were half lidded. He imagined what it would be like to join Jim there on the bed, and claim those slightly parted lips. 

After a moment, Leonard cleared his throat. "There's pizza in the fridge. If you're hungry." 

At the last word, Jim's eyes slid down Leonard's frame, coming to rest just below his waist, all signs of sleep gone from his suddenly gleaming baby blues. Leonard threw a pillow in his face. 

At the dining table, Leonard sat. Jim sprawled, suddenly energetic after all the sleep he had gotten. Maybe he was just tried, but Leonard felt old in front of the kid. Jim was positively glowing under the yellow light, eyes bright with emotion, body bursting with energy as he reached out to snick another slice of pizza. 

Some emotion must have showed on Leonard's face, because Jim paused. "Bones, you okay? You're not..." He looked nervous, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to worry his bottom lip. "You're not angry, are you?" 

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "At what?" But even as he asked, he already knew the answer. 

(That I went into your bedroom. And slept in your bed.) 

A string of images followed, hesitantly. Jim lying on his bed, looking at the pictures on the cabinet beside the bed. 

The Jim opposite Leonard glanced up at him from under his eyelashes guiltily. Leonard swallowed, and there was suddenly a lump in his throat. When he'd seen Jim in there, he had just been so relieved that there had been no space left for any other emotion. Now, however... 

He could choose to be angry, and possibly push Jim away. It would be deserving, but just then Leonard didn't want to be alone anymore. And he knew he'd miss Jim. Hell, he knew how upset he'd been when he'd thought that Jim had left. 

He could choose to forgive him instead. Besides, Leonard didn't think that there were any more secrets worth Jim's time in this house. And maybe the topic could even be a gateway to making Jim tell Leonard about his secrets, about Sam. Then Leonard could teach him to lock away his demons.

"No. But don't do that again." Leonard said, his voice slightly clipped. He saw Jim flinch, but nod. Good. 

"You saw my daughter, Joanna, right?" When Leonard spoke again, his voice had softened, though whether it was because of the topic of Joanna or because he was placated, he himself wasn't sure. 

Jim nodded, his face serious. "She's beautiful, Bones," He said earnestly, and Leonard felt a surge of pride. 

"She is," Leonard said softly. "My ex divorced me and took her away. I don't know whether I hate her or not, sometimes. But I went through a dark phase, after my dad... He died." Memories of David McCoy's death and the slow and arduous period before it threatened to surface, and for once Leonard didn't try to suppress them. 

He heard Jim gasp, and raised his head. Jim was looking at him sheepishly. "Shit, Bones. I almost forgot. When you were gone... I saw your dad in your bedroom." Jim admitted. 

Impossible!

That was Leonard's first thought. David McCoy had never appeared in front of him before; not when Eleanor McCoy had broken down and cried at his deathbed, not when the entire family had been grieving, and not even when Leonard had found out that the cure for xenopolycythemia had been found just months later. 

But the images flowing into Leonard's mind were as real as the heavy and warm hand on his. Jim wasn't lying, but there was pity in his blue eyes as he looked at Leonard, and that was almost as bad. 

"What did he say?" Leonard finally said, after a long pause. 

Jim looked confused, and started sending images to Leonard again. Leonard shook his head, holding up his other hand. "No, I want to hear it. From you." 

Understanding bloomed on Jim's face. "Okay." He agreed. 

Jim told him about what David McCoy had said to him, and that was what Leonard needed; to hear it from someone else, to hear someone else affirm it, instead of it being an unrealistic specter. Jim's tone was earnest and animated, adding his own emotions to the story. And maybe he wasn't the best storyteller, but he was the one Leonard needed now. 

He'd never gave it much thought, but perhaps having someone with the shining around him could be helpful. 

As Jim spoke, Leonard noticed that sometimes he would glance up, at the space above Leonard's right shoulder. Leonard reached out with his senses, but he didn't sense anything. "What?" He finally broke in, ending a conversation between Jim and his imaginary friend. Jim stared at him, questioning. 

"What's on my shoulder?" Leonard gestured at his shoulder without looking back, feeling ridiculous. From a young age, it had always been Leonard himself who pointed out various apparitions around town, and his classmates and friends being disturbed and confused. 

"Uh. You can't see him?" Jim asked, looking both puzzled and awkward at once. 

"No, I don't feel anything at all," Leonard said, feeling lost. 

Jim's face screwed up in confusion almost comically, before it suddenly cleared up. "Oh, that's right! It's because the Mr McCoy who told me all this is just-" He suddenly stopped, looking caught like the proverbial deer. 

Jim might have managed to stop the words from escaping his mouth, but he hadn't had enough practice yet to stopper his thoughts in time. Leonard caught the unsaid "a fragment of your thoughts", but he surprised himself when he didn't feel cheated by the revelation. Maybe that was how it was. Leonard's subconsciousness had always known the truth his family and friends had tried so hard to instill in him, but his waking mind had never come to terms with it. 

Leonard exhaled, slowly. The barrage of memories surfaced again, but Leonard forced them down and locked them away. Not now. He could grieve, and let it go later in his own time. He had of press the matter now before Jim's walls went up again. 

"Jim. Yesterday, in the bathroom... The person you saw. Sam, you brother. What happened to him? I can help you, but you need to tell me what happened." You need to trust me, Leonard thought to himself. Leonard didn't need to know what had transpired to teach Jim to lock his demons away, but he needed Jim to trust him and he supposed that knowing the whole truth was as good a way as any. Besides, the doctor part of him knew that releasing bottled emotions was part of therapy for trauma. 

Jim inhaled, taking a deep breath. All the bumbling energy and smiles disappeared, leaving behind a scared teenager who somehow simultaneously looked older than his years. For a moment he hesitated, and Leonard was about to say something, anything, to break the awkward silence that had fallen when Jim said, "Okay." 

His voice was low, slightly hoarse with ragged emotion, and his face was so solemn and pale that Leonard almost regretted pushing him. 

But Leonard knew that it was for the best, so he ignored the turmoiling feeling in his gut and just said, "Okay, kid. Take your time." He reached out with a hand and grasped Jim's tightly, to ground Jim to reality. Leonard knew from experience how easy it was to get lost in memories, especially with the shining. 

Jim looked at Leonard again, a deep, soul-searching look before starting his story. Leonard would remember the single-minded intensity in those blue eyes in that moment later, probably in his empty, cold bed wishing they were fixed on him for another reason. 

"Two days ago, I came back from a camp, and- I was just so happy, y'know, Bones? I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much. And then - and then I came home, and Frank was there -" 

(My stepfather) 

" - and he told me - or I read it from his mind, I don't care and I don't remember, that Sam was dead. He said that my brother was dead, and nobody even fucking cared to tell me!" Jim's breathing had become irregular, his eyes hard and his grip on Leonard's hand almost painful. 

Leonard gave his hand a small squeeze, and Jim exhaled. He gave Leonard a grateful nod and continued, calmer, "My mother had gone into shock, and she was in the hospital then. But I was just so angry, Bones! If anyone had to die, it should've been me!" 

At the last part, Jim's body visibly convulsed. Leonard could hear the litany in his head, a continuous chant of freak that rattled like a headache. 

"Jim, you're not a freak." Leonard said honestly, gripping Jim's shoulder with his free hand. "Jim!" 

Jim lifted his head, eyes still shut tightly. He didn't have to say anything. Leonard understood from the images Jim sent him from his mind. Jim's father dying after Jim had violently objected to moving, Jim's mother's refusal to believe Jim about the things he could see, Jim's stepfather Frank calling him a freak and Sam haunting his dreams. 

Without releasing Jim's hand, Leonard crossed over to the other side of the table and wrapped his arms around Jim. He hesitated before securing his arms around Jim, but Jim tugged him closer in an almost violent gesture. Leonard obliged. 

They stood there for an unaccountable period of time, just two people who had just met each other a couple of days ago; who should have been strangers, but were drawn together by the inexplicable gift of the shining. 

..... 

"Okay, Jim. I'm going to teach you how to lock him away, if Sam appears again. And remember, your brother loves you and would never hurt you. That thing that keeps appearing in front of you isn't really him at all." Bones was using his professional voice, the one that was firm but kind and made you have absolute confidence in him. 

Laid out on the dining table was an old, rusty lock. It was the old-fashioned kind, with a keyhole instead of number combinations. Bones had dug it up from under a pile of what looked like a stack of rather random items. Jim tried not to judge. His own room back in Iowa wasn't exactly spick and span either. 

"In the real world, we can lock away things physically by using one of these." Bones said, and Jim nodded. "The human mind is a powerful thing. Now, imagine a lock like this in your mind and a box. It'll be easier if you can feel it." Bones pushed the lock over to Jim. 

Jim scooped it up and held it in his palm. It was much heavier than the newer designs he was used to, but the additional weight made it feel safe. Closing his eyes, Jim tried to imagine the exact same lock in his mind. 

"Then imagine a box. I don't have one handy, but you can just think of any one you have at home." Bones' voice was comforting and reliable, and Jim could just imagine him looking intently at him, trying to gauge his progress from his expression.

Or maybe he could just read his mind. 

"Jim." Came Bones' amused voice. "Concentrate, you want to master this skill by today, don't you?" That sobered Jim up. 

Focusing his attention on the task at hand, Jim imagined the lock attached to the box back in Iowa where he kept his few precious possessions. 

"Keep it empty," Bones reminded. "You need space to lock him inside." 

Jim nodded in Bones' general direction. He cleared the mental version of the box, leaving it empty. 

(Good) 

Jim jerked in surprise. He still wasn't used to hearing other people in his mind. "You can see what I'm doing?" He asked. 

(Yes, but that takes practice, and we should concentrate on this first.) 

(Okay) 

"Now, you should be ready. Try locking the box and keeping it shut." Bones instructed. 

Jim fitted the lock around the box and slammed the bolt in. To his surprise, the box immediately began to move and shake about, as if something were really inside and trying to force its way out. Jim's brow furrowed in concentration. He could sense nothing -and shit, that was a little weird, something inside something his mind had created. Nothing except from himself and... 

"Bones! You're doing this?" Jim gasped out. His eyes were still closed, but Jim could feel Bones' smile. 

The box was continuing to shake violently, and so Jim concentrated instead on it. Determined to prove himself in front of Bones, he focused all the mental energy he could harness on containing it. 

However, soon the presence was straining against the lock, causing the lid of the box to buckle. Biting his lip, Jim tried imagining tight and secure chains wrapped all over the box. Gradually, the presence began to stop struggling against the chains in futility. 

Opening his eyes, Jim glanced triumphantly at Bones. Bones was looking at him, just looking, and Jim would have thought that he would feel uncomfortable under such an intent stare, but all Jim could think of was how tender Bones' expression looked, how unchanging and beautiful his hazel-green eyes were.

His heart clenched with want all over again, and he quickly dropped his gaze. "Uh," Jim said articulately, "The lock wasn't strong enough, so I used chains. That's fine, right?" He couldn't resist looking up at Bones again. 

But Bones wasn't looking at him anymore. The doctor was glancing at anywhere but Jim as he replied, "It doesn't matter. You just saw the lock, and maybe you think that chains are stronger than locks. In fact, the stronger the emotional value of the object, the stronger it'll be in your mind." 

Jim barely heard the words. Bones looked uncomfortable. What had he... Had he shown too much of his feelings? Bones had initiated their first and only kiss so far, but maybe it had just been a spur-of-the-moment thing for him. After all, it must have been a pleasant surprise for Bones, too, to find someone else who had so much of the shining. Jim knew that that was what had attracted him to Bones initially. 

But Jim didn't want to say anything. He didn't want to risk an awkward explanation and possibly end up being kicked out. No, Bones would never do that. But he would ask Jim to move out the next day anyway. 

No. If Bones only wanted to be friends, Jim was totally fine with that. He could do that, couldn't he? 

..... 

Standing in front of the guest room's bathroom door, Leonard felt butterflies in his stomach. A childish idiom, perhaps, but it aptly described what he felt in that moment. Jim was standing in front of him, hand hovering over the door, not quite pushing it. This close, Leonard could sense his nervousness even without extending his senses. 

Which meant that he would also have to be careful about what he thought about. Leonard could guard his thoughts better than Jim could, but he couldn't guarantee that Jim wouldn't pick up some of it. It was better to be safe than sorry, Leonard decided. 

The kid had to have heard Leonard's thoughts earlier, or at least saw the raw emotions on his face as he stared at his face. Leonard could feel the confusion Jim had projected afterwards, and he hoped the kid wasn't angry. 

He shouldn't have kissed Jim in the first place. Damn it, what had he been, a hormone-fueled teenager? It was all because of the shining. With as much of the inherent power as Jim had, the spark they had created was irresistible. 

He had probably sent all the wrong signals with his actions. And now, because he couldn't control his own stupid feelings, the kid was probably creeped out by him.

Sure, Jim had responded to his kiss, but that was probably because of the shining too. Besides, Jim was actually a teenager. What was Leonard's excuse? He was at least a decade older than Jim. 

Hastily, Leonard locked away his thoughts. In front of him, Jim had begun to look restless, turning around with a worried gaze in his blue eyes. 

"You ready, Jim?" Leonard asked, making sure to use his doctor voice. It made him sound more professional and sure of what he was doing. And more importantly, it made Leonard able to think of Jim as just another patient. Whatever flaws Leonard McCoy might have, never let it be said that he took advantage of patients. 

Jim nodded, but there was a nervous look in his eyes now and the muscles in his arms were clenched tightly as he moved to push the door open. It would have been easy to give in to temptation and put a hand on Jim's shoulder, or even hold his hand, but Leonard resisted. 

The door fell open, revealing the dark and eerie bathroom. Leonard tensed, remembering the things he'd seen before in such places. Jim flipped on the light switch, and they both relaxed in unison. 

In the yellow light, every corner of the small bathroom was illuminated. There was nothing there that shouldn't have been there. In the mirror, Leonard saw Jim working his jaw, and swallowed. 

Approaching the mirror, Jim put an arm against the mirror, leaning his weight on it. "Come on," He growled, an almost feral sound that sent tingles down Leonard's spine despite himself. His doctor's composure had all but evaporated; professionalism required him to actually understand the situation, and he had little control over this one. 

There was a pause so long that Jim and Leonard almost thought that they had been wrong to assume that Sam, or whatever that thing had been, would appear again. 

Then there was a sound of splintering glass, and the mirror cracked under Jim's arm. Alarmed, the kid snatched his arm away from it. Sam, or the thing that looked like him, appeared in the mirror, like a horribly refracted and broken reflection. Leonard could feel a headache building up as he stared at the distorted image in the mirror. 

Jim, however, didn't flinch. His frame didn't shake, even though Leonard spied his hands clenching into tight fists. "I've brought something for you, Sam." The kid's voice broke on the last word, but he continued on bravely. Leonard stepped up to stand side by side with Jim, determined to be an emotional support. 

Leonard watched as Jim held out a hand towards the cracked mirror and closed his eyes, his brow set in concentration. Leonard reached out into Jim's mind, and this time Jim willingly allowed his walls to drop before snapping them right back up after Leonard was in. 

Leonard could see Jim reach out with his own mind and try to suck Sam into the prepared box. The lock, which Bones had first used so many years ago, was there, but Leonard knew that Jim had his chains at ready. 

Sam fought. The apparition snarled and resisted every step of the way, but Jim eventually managed to pull him him into the box, quickly snapping on the lock and the chains. Sam bucked wildly in the box, struggling to escape, and Jim put his hand on the left side of his temples. 

Leonard knew that the stronger ghosts could talk, but he also knew that anything he said now in Jim's head would only confuse him and make it worse. Instead, he withdrew completely from Jim's head and held his hand, ignoring the part of him that screamed that it was a bad idea. It was a platonic gesture, he told himself. 

Jim tightened the grip, his whole arm trembling with tension. Leonard held on, not saying a word, until Jim finally exhaled. 

"Is it done?" Leonard asked, voice ragged with tension. 

"Yeah." Jim replied, the word a heavy gush of air. Leonard could tell that he was tired again; all the extra hours of sleep he had gotten in the afternoon gone in his attempt at locking up Sam. His blue eyes were tired and his eyelids on the verge of drooping. The kid had probably overexerted his newly learnt ability. 

Still, as Leonard helped Jim to his bed, he couldn't help the uneasy feeling prickling at the back of his head. It had been a little too easy, hadn't it? 

Jim had only just learnt how to lock things in his head, and although Leonard knew that Jim was smart, he still remembered that he had taken much longer than that to master the skill. The only reason Leonard had allowed Jim to go right ahead and try to trap Sam was that he himself was there, and he was prepared to step in if needed. 

But Leonard hadn't needed to do anything more than stand by and hold Jim's hand. 

Jim fell asleep almost immediately, brow smoothing out and making him seem years younger than his actions just moments ago suggested. Looking at him, Leonard almost had the urge to bend down and kiss his forehead, just like how he had once done to Joanna after tucking her in for bed. 

While the gesture would be platonic, Leonard caught himself just in time. He didn't know how soundly Jim was asleep yet, and he didn't want to risk the kid waking up and having an awkward conversation. 

Before Leonard shut the door of the guest room, he glanced at the mirror in the bathroom. The fractured surface betrayed nothing out of the ordinary. 

..... 

It wasn't the door opening that woke Leonard up, or even the murderous aura of the person in his bedroom, a testament to how tired he actually was. 

Leonard was a light sleeper; even when he and Jocelyn had still shared a bed, he would wake up when she left to use the bathroom. 

So when Leonard felt the bed sinking beneath the weight of something, he immediately snapped awake. He was instantly glad that he had never been one to bolt upright in bed, because he found a knife hovering an arm's breadth above him, unsteady enough that there was a risk that it would fall and accidentally impale Leonard in the chest. 

An icy chill ran down Leonard's spine. Looking up along the sharp, gleaming edge of the kitchen knife, he could just make out trembling hands and their owner, kneeling on the side of the bed, arms raised as if readying to stab downwards. 

Even without the benefit of bright light, Leonard recognized the aura as Jim's, although barely. There was something wrong with it, he thought absentmindedly. It was Jim's aura, but there was a murderous blood red tinge to it. Why would Jim want to kill him? 

Vaguely, Leonard knew that he was going into shock. Closing his eyes, he swallowed, hard. He had to keep his mind functioning or he might really die under Jim's knife. 

"Jim, what's wrong?" Leonard rasped, and a wild, desperate cry escaped Jim's throat. The knife fell limply from his grasp, with no force but gravity behind its fall. It fell to the ground beside the bed harmlessly. 

Leonard took the chance to switch on the bedside lamp. 

Even in the dim lighting, Jim looked wrecked. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes were wild and his pupils dilated. The look might have aroused some other emotion than horror in other circumstances. Leonard pushed that thought out of his mind. 

Jim didn't collapse on Leonard, thankfully; Leonard wasn't sure if he could have handled any such contact Jim initiated so soon. Instead, Jim's entire frame shook, and he buried his face into his hands, kneeling there on the bed beside Leonard. When Leonard looked at his aura again, he was relieved to find that the murderous red tinge was gone. 

Leonard sat up, and hesitated for only a moment before he put a reassuring hand on Jim's back, stroking in circles. 

After a while, Jim looked up, his expression almost comical, like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. Leonard didn't feel like laughing. "Bones," He choked out, his voice wavering. "I was- I was going to kill you. And you asked me if I was okay?" 

Leonard frowned and opened his mouth, but nothing came out, mostly because he didn't know what to say. It had been a natural reaction. It was what he would have done if it had been Joanna or even Jocelyn, because even at her worst she had never been murderous. Leonard knew that Jim wasn't a killer. 

..... 

Jim stared in utter shock at Bones as the man's expression changed with his thoughts. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from Bones' thoughts. Sure, Jim had been under the influence of that thing locked in his head, but he had been holding a fucking knife, and Bones had asked if he was okay. 

He really didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Bones, I might not be a killer, but - that wasn't me just now. I could - could've killed you." He stuttered out, feeling the shock starting to set in. 

Bones' face was still that maddening look of complete confidence. "Maybe, but you were resisting, Jim." He said reasonably, and for a split second Jim didn't know whether he wanted to punch his stupid attractive face or kiss him for having so much faith in him. 

Then Bones' expression softened, and he murmured, "Maybe you're right, but all I could see then was you, Jim. I knew that you were somewhere inside. Maybe that'll be the death of me one day." He lifted a hand to Jim's face, as if to brush a stray hair away, but the hand paused before contact, freezing in mid motion. 

And suddenly Jim couldn't stand it anymore. He'd just been possessed by a ghost he'd thought he'd trapped in his head and he was tired and he wasn't in the mood for any games and soft approaches. 

Fuck caution, he thought, and leaned in to kiss Bones. 

Bones' lips were perfect and full under his, just as they had been the first time, and Jim kissed them hard and fast, nipping at the bottom lip and feeling a fire spread through his body when Bones opened his mouth, giving him access. 

It was more than Jim had hoped for; Bones was consenting, allowing him to do this. Jim was probably going to feel like a jerk for doing this later, but he was too tired to care and allowed himself to savor this now. 

Maybe Bones was just confused, but Jim knew what he wanted. Reaching up, he fisted a hand in Bones' messy bedhead, feeling the dark hair tangle and catch in his grip. Bones' beautiful, unquantifiable eyes had been wide open in surprise at first, but now they were closed in pleasure. 

Bones moaned, a weak and needy sound in the back of his throat. It made Jim's heart ache, and if he closed his own eyes he could almost imagine that Bones wanted this too, needed this as much as Jim did. 

(Damn it Jim, we're both such idiots)

Jim blinked, and Bones took the opportunity to take over, flipping Jim over and down to the side, pressing heated kisses along the side of his neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. 

"Ungh- huh? Bones, what?" Jim groaned, having trouble forming coherent sentences. 

(I love you too, you idiot) 

Jim could hear the unwilling note in Bones' thought at admitting something like that. Then a barrage of emotions that mirrored Jim's own flowed into his head, and Jim was overwhelmed by the feelings, both his own and Bones'. 

Bones was right. They were both idiots. Jim felt like laughing, not only because of how overwhelmed he was both emotionally and physically, but because of how stupid they had both been. 

It was okay. They knew now. 

Bones was directly above Jim now, growling possessively as he ran warm and controlled hands over his body, and shit, that wasn't a word Jim wanted to think about just now. 

Suddenly, Jim's head hurt, and the banging had started again, the Sam in his head shrieking and shouting, saying things Sam would never say, but it was his voice. Jim remembered how Sam had taken over control of him; forcing him to take up the knife and stab Bones with it. 

Jim had tried his best to resist, but the thing inside his head, even locked, was strong. In fact, Jim was starting to think that trapping Sam had only been so easy because Sam's motive had been to possess him. 

The heat and skin-to-skin contact with Bones was suddenly too much for Jim to bear. "Stop," He cried out, his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears. "Shit, Bones, STOP!" 

Immediately, Bones rolled over, sitting up and putting a hand over Jim's forehead. Jim could sense Bones' consciousness prodding in his mind, and he whimpered. The feeling of intrusion, combined with the loud sounds in the box, was unbearable torment. 

Bones must have known, either by reading Jim's thoughts or by experiencing it himself, because he swore under his breath and muttered, "Shit, Jim, I'm sorry, we should've done this first." 

Jim winced as the pounding in his head increased in both size and strength. "Okay, Jim, we're going to have to destroy that box in your head. It's going to be a bit more challenging, but I'll be here to help you." Bones was using his doctor voice again, encouraging and in total control. 

Jim trusted him completely. 

Reflexively, Jim held out his hand, and Bones gripped it tight. "Okay, just relax, I'm going to come in," Bones murmured, and Jim felt a hand caressing his forehead as Bones' presence returned in his head. Jim did his best to relax, ignoring the headache Sam was causing.

"Good, Jim. Now, we're going to destroy it." Instead of using his thoughts, Bones said it out verbally. Jim knew that he was trying not to aggravate his headache, and was grateful. He nodded, eyes closed to concentrate better. 

"Okay. Now, imagine something potentially damaging. A hammer, maybe, or a sword. Something with solid weight." Bones' voice was like a weight itself, something Jim could hold on to.

For some reason, the first thing that came to Jim's mind was the shining itself. Sam, along with the rest of his family, had never liked it. And what was the shining if not damaging to Jim? It was the root cause of why his father had died, his mother had become a drunk, Frank's debut in the remaining Kirks' lives and even the cause of Sam appearing to him. 

Jim hesitated, waiting for Bones' approval, even though the pounding in his head was getting worse by the second. Any moment now, Jim knew, Sam might take over. And Jim had no way to be sure if he could stop himself a second time. 

There was no reply from Bones for a long minute, almost too long. But Bones finally said, "Okay, Jim. Now use it to destroy the box." His hand tightened around Jim's, renewing the slackened grip. 

Jim reached in, deep into the recesses of his mind, and brought out as much of the shining as he dared to harness. He held the power together, shaping it in his mind to form a sphere before aiming and releasing at the violently shaking box. 

For a millisecond, the world in Jim's mind seemed to freeze in time. Jim couldn't hear anything from the box, nor from anywhere else in his mind. He could only hear Bones take in a deep breath. 

Then the sphere exploded, and the box shredded into a million insignificant fragments, scattering all over Jim's mind. A flurry of ear-splitting screams emitted from the remains of what had been in the box, and echoed all around in the caverns of Jim's mind. 

Everything went stark white, and there was a peculiar ringing in Jim's ears. Then, the world darkened and Jim slid into its black embrace. 

.......

Jim dreamt that he was free-falling, falling through an endless, pitiless black chasm. Then there were faces, some greeting Jim, some looking at him. 

There was George Kirk, his father, the head of the Kirk household that had died two years ago. He looked the way Jim loved best; the way he had came home from the lab, his blue eyes tired but lighting up when they saw his family, his solid hugs smelling slightly of disinfectant. 

He saw Jim fall by, and smiled, like he always had, before the accident had happened and left a charred, unrecognizable corpse behind. Jim had never seen it, but in his worst nightmares, the corpse always replaced the animate family man. 

Next Jim saw Enterprise, the dog that he had loved until she had died of old age, barking at him as she had done when Jim was just a child. She wagged her tail as Jim fell past her, energetic and lively, young again. Jim wanted to reach out to pet her between her ears like she had loved, but he couldn't move his arms. 

Then Jim saw Sam. He was almost afraid that he would scream at the sight of his brother, but he didn't. Because Sam was sixteen again, sixteen and happy, smiling like he had been when Jim had saw him kissing Aurelan in the kitchen. 

He looked nothing like the disfigured roadkill he had been in Frank's memories, the ghost whose appearance had been imprinted and etched into Jim's mind. He looked happy. He looked like Sam. Jim wanted to turn back time, reach back into his memories and just hold Sam, hold him there and never let him go, never let him run into the present, into the ghost he had become. 

But Sam shook his head, still smiling, the way all elder siblings did when admonishing their younger brothers and sisters. Jim let go.

There was a long stretch of darkness where no one was there. But a phantom hand held on to him, comforting him, reassuring Jim that he was okay. 

The darkness was elevating, changing to lighter shades with every meter Jim fell. 

Suddenly, Jim saw Winona, the color returning to her face, back in the Kirk household, talking to Frank, his expression surprisingly tender as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. Winona smiled, a small and tired smile, and said something towards Frank, who frowned and sighed.

Jim knew, without hearing their voices, that they were talking about him, and he felt a stab of guilt. After this was over, if there was an end, Jim would have to go back to Iowa. Winona would have at least one son back, even if that son might not have completely forgiven her. And Frank... Maybe Frank wasn't such a jerk to Winona at least. 

Jim was falling quicker now, even though he didn't understand how he could actually know that. When he glanced down, he could see a light, small but blindingly bright, the kind of light you imagined around an angel's halo. 

Aurelan appeared, looking down on a gravestone, and while the engraved side wasn't facing Jim, he knew without seeing that it was Sam's. Her eyes were heavy with grief and something else. Acceptance. She was whispering something, her lips forming Sam's name. 

Sooner or later, Jim would have to go there too, face Sam's grave. It would be easier now, he thought, now that he had personally destroyed his mind's guilt-distorted ghost with Bones. 

Bones. Jim smiled as the light rushed up to meet him, showering him in blazing whiteness. Without looking, Jim fell, knowing with complete certainty that Bones would be there to catch him. 

And he was. 

..... 

Jim woke up with a shudder, the sensation of Bones' hand still there. Jim looked down, and saw his own hand clasped in Bones', nestling on the pale white hospital sheets. 

"You're okay," Bones said gruffly, his voice rough with lethargy. He had bags under his eyes and he wasn't shaved, but Jim smiled and had to resist the urge to kiss him. "You just passed out, so now they're giving you drips. Seems like you didn't eat lunch at all, did you? And you were too nervous for that pizza to even go down properly." 

Jim wanted to open his mouth and tell him what had happened that afternoon when Bones wasn't home, but suddenly felt that he didn't need to. Sam was gone, and that thing, whether it had been formed from Jim's own mind or something else, hadn't been him. 

The smile Bones gave Jim told him that he knew what he was thinking anyway. He squeezed Jim's hand. 

A silent moment passed in which they pondered all that had passed in the previous days. Then Jim finally said, "Bones. How long has it been since you last slept?" 

Bones looked away and replied, "Not that long, kid." But he didn't bother to put up his mental walls, and Jim saw that Bones hadn't slept since the day they had destroyed the box, which had been a day before. Bones had caught a few winks, but then Jim had been possessed by Sam, and Bones hadn't rested since them. 

"Bones, you should sleep. I'm fine now, you said so yourself." Jim said softly. He was lucky to have someone who cared as much as Bones did, he knew. 

It was a testament to how tired Bones was that he didn't argue. He only nodded once, looked over Jim as if still worried about his health, and left. He looked back once more before he shut the door, and Jim answered with a wink. 

Jim was given the green light to leave the hospital later in the day, and to his dismay when he checked his wallet he didn't have enough money to pay for the bills. He swore, but wasn't exactly surprised. He had left Iowa with little more than the clothes on his back. 

He was just trying to convince the receptionist nurse that he would give the money later when Bones showed up at the counter. Even in a casual t shirt and jeans, the nurse recognized him and gave a bright smile. "Oh, Leonard!" She beamed. 

Bones seemed to recognize her too, and answered with a smile without looking at her name tag. "Christine. Sorry I had to take time off today." Jim felt a twinge of jealousy seeing the two of them, apparently friendly enough to be on first-name basis. 

"This is Jim." Bones said, gesturing towards Jim, who was trying not to look like he was staring pointedly at Bones and Christine. 

Christine, whose name tag read Nurse Chapel, gave Jim a more reserved smile. Jim returned a flirtatious smirk, which wasn't as up to his game as he would've liked. Bones rolled his eyes at Jim, who felt slightly hurt that Bones didn't even seem jealous at all. 

Bones paid the hospital bills for Jim, who batted his eyelashes demurely and asked, his tone laced with just the right amount of suggestive lilt, "Whatever could I do to repay you?" He had the satisfaction of seeing Bones flush, high color flooding his cheeks. 

Behind the counter, Nurse Chapel rolled her eyes. "So this is the boy you've been telling us about, then?"

Inexplicably, Jim felt like smiling, knowing that he could make Bones, the usually bitter divorcee blush. He didn't even have the urge to smile triumphantly at Nurse Chapel when he left the hospital with Bones. Besides, he thought that the nurse might not be so bad after all.

...... 

They both knew that the conversation was imminent, like a storm cloud on the horizon, and they made the best of it like the obedient little servants of denial they both were. 

Leonard and Jim followed each other around the house, not quite looking at each other, but not quite looking away either. They made pointless small talk and went through each other's routines, and the small touches they stole from each other were precious and enhanced by the shining. 

Now that Jim was free from the demons that had caused him to flee from Iowa, Leonard knew that it was only a matter of time before the kid returned to his hometown. And judging from what he had seen from Jim's mind when he had slipped into unconsciousness, he knew that Jim would be going back very soon. 

They spent a whole day just doing that, living it like it was just another typical day in their lives. They learnt small, insignificant things about each other, and on any other day Leonard might have simply brushed them away to the back of his head. But today, Leonard memorized every single one of them and committed them to his immediate memory. 

Still, Leonard hesitated as the clock ticked its way towards night. He was sure that he would never see Jim again when he left. And while Leonard knew now that their feelings were mutual, it still didn't change the fact that they would part ways soon. 

He couldn't stand it. As a child, Leonard had never understood why some people let themselves drift apart, even though they could have done something about it. Growing up, he learnt that sometimes it was for the best for both parties, for them to part on peaceful terms. 

But knowing something didn't equate to doing it. That had been what Leonard had thought with Jocelyn, and look how their marriage had ended. Leonard would have thought that he had learnt his lesson by now, but looking at Jim... 

Leonard couldn't. He couldn't stand by and bid Jim goodbye with a fake smile and an empty I'll see you again, even if he knew it'd be for the best. 

So Leonard grabbed Jim's shoulder as he passed towards the guest room after excusing himself and kissed him. 

This time the kiss was urgent and fervent; Leonard trying to put the emotions he couldn't even begin to describe. Jim parted his lips almost immediately, and he tasted of goodbyes and regrets. 

Leonard could feel Jim's heartbeat, could hear it when he reached out with his mind. 

(I don't want you to go) 

Jim's returning thought was full of more wistfulness than Leonard thought someone of his age should have. 

(I have to go back) 

Leonard closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the sensation and pleasure of Jim so close to him. 

(Will you... Will you come with me?) 

Leonard jerked back in surprise. Jim grabbed him, holding him by his shoulders, grip firm, eyes burning with earnestness. "Bones, will you come with me to Iowa?" 

In response, Leonard kissed Jim again, soft and sweet. Jim's eyes fell half-lidded, a unidentifiable sound escaping from the back of his throat. 

He didn't say it out, but they both knew that he was agreeing. Leonard was so relieved, so glad and happy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so elated since Jocelyn left. 

Leonard put his hands around Jim's waist, tender like he would have handling a girl. Jim leaned closer, until they were pressed flush together, separated only by the layers of their clothes. 

....... 

The first thing Jim did when he reached Iowa was introduce Bones to his mother. He was nervous and jittery, but both he and Bones had agreed that this would be for the best. Besides, he didn't think Winona would be able to pick many faults with Bones, no matter how angry she was with Jim. 

Bones was a qualified doctor who, while young, had already accomplished things in the medical field but had chosen to stay in Georgia, his hometown. While Bones was usually grumpy and scruffy looking, Jim had made him promise to shave and make an effort to look presentable. 

Meanwhile, Jim had a long and heart-to-heart talk with his mother like he hadn't in years. Winona looked much better than Jim had seen in his visions; perhaps even better than some days before Jim had left Iowa. There was color in her cheeks now, and she looked sober enough, even though her hands shook when she tried to offer Jim water. 

It turned out that ironically, it had been Frank who had stopped Winona from drinking in the days following her discharge from the hospital. Winona had tried to drown herself in alcohol, unable to cope with both her sons' sudden disappearance from her life, drinking far more than even her usual fare. 

Frank had shouted at her to stop, knowing that she would drink herself into a grave. He had told her, albeit unconvinced himself, that Jim would return and he wouldn't want to have to bury his entire family. The harsh words had aroused the fiery and iron streak in Winona's personality, and the two had fought. 

Eventually, Frank had made Winona see sense, she recounted to Jim with a smile. She reached across the coffee table, brushing past the Kirk family photos, to grasp Jim's hand. Her eyes, Jim saw, were wet with stubbornly unshed tears. 

At the sight, Jim felt answering tears of his own prickling in his eyes. "Mum," He murmured, the word sounding foreign in his throat. "I'm sorry." Words, unsaid over the years, threatened to gush out all at once, but Jim held back. There would be time later. 

"There's someone I want you to meet, mum." Jim said, standing up and walking towards the door, pretending not to see his mother quickly wipe her tears away when he had turned away. 

Sure enough, Bones was there, outside the door, looking extremely uncomfortable in a slick three-piece suit. The sight took Jim's breath away. 

Bones' hair was combed neatly like it had been the first time Jim had met him. The suit hugged his figure just right, accentuating those broad shoulders and slender waist. And those eyes which color Jim had never pinned down as a certain shade, those orbs of a fusion of hazel and green, looked more beautiful than ever staring right at Jim. 

Jim must have stood there staring dumbly for a longer time than he had thought, because he heard Winona call from the living room, "Jim? You okay there?" Her voice actually sounded genuinely worried, and Jim's heart ached. He had been thoughtless to abandon his mother right after she had lost someone just as precious to her as he was to him. 

"Yeah, we're coming, mum!" He quickly called, shooting Bones a quick nervous smile. He wiped his hands on his jeans before walking back over to the coffee table. 

Winona glanced up at Bones, and Jim crossed his fingers behind his back. Childish, he knew, but habits stuck. 

Luckily, after a quick glance at his mother's face, Jim judged that Winona's impression was a good one. "Oh, my... Jim, who is this?" She asked, and her voice was approving.

"My name's Leonard McCoy, Mrs Kirk." Bones said politely, his Georgian drawl like honey. Jim bit his lip before saying, "Mum... He's my boyfriend." He nearly stumbled over the word, unused to using the term to describe Bones. 

Winona's expression changed. "Did you meet Leonard in Georgia, honey?" She asked, her expression concerned. 

Jim winced. He couldn't tell his mother about why he had moved into Bones' house, so he had to settle for, "Yeah. He's a doctor in a hospital there, mum." 

Winona looked thoughtful. Jim probed gently into her mind, and heard her thoughts. She approved of Bones generally, but she was worried that Jim didn't know him well enough. "Mum," He couldn't help protesting. "I'm turning eighteen in two weeks. I'm old enough to judge people." 

Bones shot Jim a look, an eyebrow raised. Jim knew that he didn't approve of mind reading, for various reasons. Luckily, Winona didn't question how Jim had known her worries. 

She glanced for a while more at Bones, analyzing him in a way only protective mums could. Finally, she nodded. "Okay, Jim, but you're not living with him until you're eighteen." She reminded. 

Bones accepted the terms with ease, so Jim had no choice but to acquiesce. 

(It's two weeks, Jim, you can wait) 

Jim looked at Bones and sighed. 

(What else can I do? I wouldn't risk fucking up things with you) 

Bones rolled his eyes at Jim, but Jim knew that he was touched, even though he wasn't going to show it. Bones was like that, soft inside but with a prickly external layer. 

They had previously discussed that Jim would move to Georgia after he turned eighteen. Jim could further his studies there, because after his divorce, Bones couldn't do a long-distance relationship. 

Two weeks. He could wait. Besides, in the meantime, Jim could settle some things he wanted to do. 

While Winona had a long talk with Bones, Jim went to visit Aurelan. 

Aurelan lived down the row of houses opposite the Kirk household. She used to go to school with Sam. When Jim knocked on the door, the girl who answered was pale and thin, exhausted eye bags under her eyes. Her black hair, which had always been brushed meticulously, was now unkempt and let down in loose ringlets. In her dark eyes, Jim could see his own grief mirrored; but Aurelan's was quiet and accepting while Jim's had been angry and blaming. 

"Jim?" She asked tiredly. "Come in, please." 

They talked all afternoon, with Jim sharing things with her about Sam that he couldn't tell Winona, and Aurelan responding in kind with quirks and things that Sam had done with her, the places he had brought her. Jim found himself relieving more happy memories than sad ones, and laughing along instead of crying. 

After that, Aurelan accompanied Jim to Sam's grave. The gravestone was newly minted, and the words "In memory of Samuel Kirk" were engraved clearly on it. Jim thought that he would cry, but he didn't. Instead, he said to Sam's grave the things he never had the opportunity or motivation to say. 

Aurelan stood to the side, silently mourning. When Jim finally stood up, he caught sight of tears in her eyes. 

"Aurelan, you're a nice girl. I'm sure Sam was glad to have you by his side." Jim said. 

She nodded, rapidly blinking away her tears. "Thank you, Jim. I hope you find happiness with your boyfriend in Georgia. Be sure to drop around to visit sometime, all right?" Aurelan said. 

Jim blinked, taken back that she knew about Bones. He supposed that he had overdressed. Aurelan smiled. "Anyone could see that you're in love." She told him. "The way you two act around each other." 

On the way back to the Kirk household, Jim bumped into Frank. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Frank was one of the people he wanted to talk to. So when Frank merely nodded to acknowledge his presence, ready to move on, Jim called out, "Wait!" 

Frank stopped, sneering at Jim. "What is it now, boy? You going to beat me up again?" He asked. 

Jim made an effort to control his anger. At least then he could tell Winona that he has tried. "Frank. I don't like you either, but you proved something when you told my mother to abstain from alcohol." 

That got a raised eyebrow from Frank. He evidently hadn't been expecting that. "Yeah, so? It's not like I'm going to stop her forever. That's up to her herself." 

Jim hadn't been expecting anything more either. "That's good enough for now. Anyway, I'll be moving to Georgia in two weeks. You'll have the whole house to the two of you. I don't trust you, Frank, but I know my mother can take care of herself." He warned. 

Frank shrugged, although Jim caught the delight in his thoughts. Frank didn't like Jim either. But he had stopped Winona from drinking herself to death, so Jim trusted that he wasn't looking to cheat her of her money. 

He walked away without another word. 

....... 

Later that night, Jim and Bones lay down side by side on the grass of the Kirk household's backyard, hands laced together.

Bones would be leaving in the morning, but Jim would be joining him in two weeks. Meanwhile, they enjoyed the stars from the Iowa sky. 

"Jim, we can still talk through our thoughts, or even just by plain old messaging." Bones said, once again reading Jim's mind. 

"Yeah." Jim replied. But it wasn't the same as having Bones right beside him. 

"Two weeks." Bones reminded. 

They lay like that for a while, before Jim finally asked something that had been bugging him for a long time. "Bones... My father wanted to the family to move houses." 

Bones turned his head to look directly at Jim, eyes squinting in the dim lighting to see Jim's expression. Jim knew what he was thinking, but for once he wasn't wanting to grieve when he mentioned his father. 

"You know where he wanted us to move?" Here, Jim turned too, looking into Bones' eyes, pressing their connection. 

Bones' eyes widened. "Georgia?" He asked. 

Jim nodded. He turned to look at the stars again. "Do you think... Do you think that it was fate, or something? That whatever I did... We would have ended up here." Jim interlaced his fingers with Bones'. 

Bones huffed. For someone with so much of the shining, Jim mused, Bones was strangely unreligious. "Maybe, kid. I don't really know. The shining lets me predict things sometimes, but I don't know if that's fate or just consequence." 

There was something, Jim felt, that Bones was hesitating to say. He waited. If Bones wanted to share, he would. 

Finally, Bones said, "Jim, that last night back in Georgia." Jim looked back at him, quizzically. "I thought I was going to lose you." Bones admitted softly. Jim thought back to that night. Yeah, he had thought that he was going to lose Bones, too. If Bones hadn't kissed him, he might never have dared to ask him to come with him. 

Bones was looking at him now, too. "If I hadn't done that... Would we still be here?" He mused darkly. 

Jim felt a cold feeling when he thought about that. That he might be here alone without Bones. He quickly shrugged it away. "I don't know." 

Then he said, more seriously, "It doesn't matter now. We're here now." 

A smile curved Bones' lips. Jim leaned forward and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, this is the longest thing I've written in a long while. As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
